by  s.  shouunyan 


CONTENTS 


cno.b  Bolshevik  smugglers,  by  S.  Shaumyan. 
c192-?3 

cno.23  Russia  freel  The  authorised  report 
of  speeches  made  on  31  March,  1917,  at  the 
Royal  Albert  Hall,  London,  by  G-.  Lansbury  cand 
others,  c 1917a 

cno.3a  Zum  Jahrestag  der  Proletarischen 
Revolution  in  Russland,  1917-1921.  cl922?n 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/pamphletsaboutru12unse 


s. 


SHAUMYAN 


BOLSHEVIK 

SMUGGLERS 

(An  Incident  in  the  Civil  War) 


INTERNATIONAL  PAMPHLETS 
799  Broadway,  New  York 


Ali  Rights  Reserved 
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fa  Wit  Unlo«  si  SocliHsi  Sov* 


Wfl.Om?  frS6£  o r inr 


JH7. 

P>  / K\  / 


BOLSHEVIK  SMUGGLERS 


Petrol  Starts  on  Its  Voyage 


Every  drop  of  petrol  was  of  great  value  to  the  Red 
Army  in  1919.  The  Transcaucasian  party  organisation, 
hiding  underground  for  the  time  being,  resolved  to  supply 
Soviet  Russia  with  some  quantity  of  petrol,  however 
small.  This  could  he  done  only  with  the  aid  of  sailing 
vessels,  for  on  land  a harrier  of  White  and  semi-White 
republics  stood  in  the  way.  A sea  voyage  was  also  danger- 
ous, for  the  English  and  Denikin’s  fleet  maintained 


regular  blockades.  In  order  to  deliver  a cargo  of  10  to 
12  tons  of  petrol,  every  sailing  vessel  would  have  to  break 
through  this  carefully  guarded  zone,  and  some  of  them 
at  least  would  be  sure  to  fail. 

I was  seventeen  years  old  at  the  time,  and  a member 
of  the  Young  Communst  League.  It  cost  me  a great 
deal  of  effort  to  obtain  permission  to  join  one  of  the 
^ sailing  vessels;  comrades  were  afraid  I would  not  be  able 
^to  get  out  of  secrapes  as  easily  as  a more  experienced 
^worker.  Our  first  effort  to  organise  an  expedition  from 
^Batum  failed,  for  there  were  too  many  spies  in  the  port. 
> The  British  battleship  “Theseus’’  rolled  placidly  on  the 

] waves a symbol  of  English  imperialism.  Its  grim  out- 

« *ines  seemed  like  a warning  to  smugglers  not  to  have  any 
communication  with  the  Bolsheviks.  Our  second  effort  — 
o from  Poti  — proved  successful,  however.  This  was  a 


3 


less  important  port,  and  the  conditions  there  were  more 
favourable.  After  a few  days’  search  we  succeeded  in 
getting  in  touch  with  a similar  expedition  undertaken  by 
the  local  party  committee.  A merchant  named  Irakli  was 
registered  as  the  official  owner  of  the  cargo,  I was  regis- 
tered as  his  partner.  Irakli  was  not  concerned  with  the 
political  purpose  of  the  expedition,  he  was  merely  eager 
to  earn  some  money.  The  route  of  the  vessel  was  to  be 
Poti — Kirassun — Sinop — Kerempe,  then  a turn  north- 
ward to  the  Crimea  or  Odessa.  All  the  documents  were 
made  out  for  Constantinople.  Thus,  no  suspicions  could 
be  aroused  by  the  vessel  before  it  reached  Kerempe. 

The  “Evstrati”  put  out  on  May  9.  It  was  an  old 
25-metre  motor  boat  equipped  with  a dilapidated  two- 
stroke  “ Victory”  engine.  Our  captain,  Krylov,  had  very 
little  faith  in  this  engine.  The  cargo  was  carried  in  the 
holds;  only  a few  cans  were  left  on  deck.  We  could  not 
get  any  Turkish  money  before  leaving  Poti,  and  all 
payments  on  the  voyage  had  to  be  made  in  petrol.  The 
“Evstrati”  had  hardly  gone  twenty  miles  when  the  engine 
failed,  and  we  were  compelled  to  resort  to  the  sails.  In 
addition  to  Krylov  and  the  mechanic  Grishka,  the  crew 
consisted  of  a boatswain,  two  sailors  and  a cook  — a 
young  lad.  All  of  us,  including  the  passengers,  were 
lodged  on  the  open  deck. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  second  day  the  “Evstrati” 
approached  the  Anatolian  shore.  We  caught  glimpses  of 
picturesque  capes,  gulfs,  wooded  hills  steeply  running 
down  to  the  sea;  Turkish  villages  looking  very  neat  and 
cosy  (alas,  only  from  a distance)  seemed  to  be  clinging 
to  the  rocks.  Somids  very  much  like  women’s  sobs  reached 
us  from  the  shores.  Krylov  explained  that  these  were 
jackals  howling.  A few  sailing  vessels  sailed  past;  we 
were  on  the  alert,  as  piracy  was  rife.  Recently  the  pirates 


4 


had  plundered  a large  passenger  liner.  One  rifle  and  two 
revolvers  were  all  we  had  for  defence. 

Late  in  the  night  the  “Evstrati”  dropped  anchor  in 
Kirassun.  We  decided  to  go  on  shore  in  the  morning. 
Our  captain  wanted  to  repair  the  engine.  In  liis  opinion 
the  engine  would  be  particularly  necessary  when  we  were 
approaching  the  shores  of  the  Crimean,  when  we  would 
have  to  go  at  greater  speed.  There  was  a fairly  good  repair 
shop  in  Kirassun,  and  he  could  get  the  engine  repaired 
there. 

At  dawn  a customs  boat,  carrying  the  officials  and  a 
doctor,  approached  the  “Evstrati.”  We  were  examined  and 
allowed  to  go  on  shore.  One  of  the  officials  objected,  but 
this  was  a trick  to  get  a bribe.  We  gave  orders  to  have 
some  of  the  cans  of  petrol  transferred  to  their  boat,  and 
all  obstacles  vanished  at  once. 

The  Anatolian  cities  appear  very  beautiful  from  the 
sea,  but  how  unattractive  they  are  in  reality!  The  streets 
are  littered  with  refuse.  Ragged  urchins  scurry  back  and 
forth.  The  Greek  women  are  particularly  dirty.  Yells  jar 
on  unaccustomed  ears.  It  seems  all  the  time  that  the 
people  are  quarreling  with  each  other.  But  that  is  not 
so,  we  soon  discovered,  it  is  merely  their  manner  of  talk- 
ing. A great  deal  of  noise  and  clatter  emerged  from  the 
cafeterias  with  which  the  port  abounds.  Everybody  is 
smoking  and  you  can  hardly  see  your  neighbour,  owing 
to  the  dense  smoke  pervading  the  air.  Waiters  are 
scurrying  between  the  tables,  serving  strong  coffee  in 
miniature  cups. 

The  local  shopkeepers  told  us  that  the  town  was  greatly 
disturbed.  From  time  to  time  detachments  of  irregular 
troops  fall  on  the  city,  plunder  the  merchants  and  dis- 
appear. These  detachments  consist  of  former  “askers” 
(soldiers  of  the  Turkish  army),  who  refused  to  surrender 


their  arms  to  the  British  army  of  occupation.  They  were 
mostly  peasants,  like  those  who  formed  the  “green”  ar- 
mies in  Soviet  Russia;  later  they  formed  the  back- 
bone of  the  army  of  Kemal  Pasha.  The  merchants  were 
afraid  to  keep  goods  in  stock.  The  Greek  shopkeepers 
suffered  most.  At  that  time  the  English  were  already 
training  Greece  to  act  as  a thug  against  young  Turkey, 
and  the  rebel  forces  vented  their  hatred  on  her. 

We  were  struck  by  the  beggarly  appearance  of  the 
town.  A multitude  of  beggars,  pestered  the  passers-by. 
Turkish  women  in  yashmaks  (veils),  bent  under  the 
weight  of  clay  water  ewers,  were  to  be  met  with  occasion- 
ally in  the  streets.  They  were  followed  by  their  hus- 
bands, smoking  their  pipes  and  telling  their  beads.  Some- 
times one  man  served  as  a driver  to  two  loaded  wives. 

After  a two  days’  stay  the  “Evstrati”  sailed  again. 
The  sky  was  overcast.  Great  waves  showered  us  with 
spray.  With  the  approach  of  twilight,  the  “Evstrati” 
began  to  toss  on  the  waves.  We  noticed  that  the  por- 
poises gamboling  in  the  sea,  were  all  moving  in  one 
direction,  contrary  to  their  usual  custom.  It  was  a sign 
of  an  approaching  storm,  which  was  not  long  in  coming. 
The  “Evstrati”  either  buried  her  prow  in  the  waves,  her 
helm  bare  and  her  screw  furiously  churning,  or  raised 
her  prow  above  the  waves,  while  her  stern  was  almost 
entirely  submerged  in  the  water. 

The  engine  had  to  be  stopped.  Waves  were  rolling 
over  the  deck. 

It  became  pitch  dark.  Lightning  flashed  overhead.  We 
were  terrified  lest  the  vessel  should  catch  fire.  We  would 
have  been  converted  into  a floating  beacon  on  the  furious 
waves. 

The  storm  grew  in  intensity.  The  vessel  groaned  under 
the  onslaught  of  the  waves.  It  seemed  that  any  moment 


6 


she  would  break  in  two.  The  crew  was  working  strenuous- 
ly. Krylov  himself  was  standing  at  the  helm.  The  “Ev- 
strati,”  steered  by  an  experienced  helmsman,  furiously 
cut  through  the  waves  at  right  angles,  thus  avoiding  the 
impact  of  the  waves  on  her  sides.  To  balance  the  vessels, 
Krylov  gave  the  order  to  throw  50  tons  of  petrol  over- 
board. It  almost  broke  our  hearts  to  see  this  precious 
cargo,  so  urgently  needed  in  Soviet  Russia,  dissappear 
beneath  the  waves.  But  in  a few  moments  the  cans  rose 
to  the  surface  and  floated  after  the  vessel  in  a long 
continuous  chain. 

Fearing  that  we  would  he  driven  to  shore  in  the  dark, 
we  took  course  for  the  open  sea.  We  were  absolutely  igno- 
rant of  our  whereabouts.  Krylov  reckoned  that  the  “Ev- 
strati”  was  not  far  from  either  Samsoun  or  Bafra.  Late 
in  the  night,  lights  appeared  in  the  distance.  The  storm 
began  to  subside  only  towards  noon  of  the  following  day. 
The  sails  relaxed  and  bore  the  “Evstrati”  at  a much 
slower  rate  than  before.  The  sun  appeared  from  behind 
the  lead-coloured  clouds.  Wet  through  and  through, 
chilled  to  the  bone,  dead  tired  after  a sleepless  night  and 
sea-sickness,  we  keenly  enjoyed  the  caressing  rays  of  the 
sun.  The  porpoises  once  again  gamboled  in  the  sea. 
The  shores  loomed  in  the  distance,  and  soon  we  saw  a 
city  ahead.  It  was  Synop.  In  the  anticipation  of  rest,  hot 
food  and  sleep,  our  spirits  revived,  and  we  became  our- 
selves once  more. 

Around  five  o’clock  the  “Evstrati”  approached  the  bay. 
Another  misfortune.  A head-wind  arose  which  prevented 
us  from  entering  the  bay  under  sail,  and  our  engine  failed. 
We  were  compelled  to  tack,  and  the  distance,  which  in 
normal  circumstances  could  be  made  in  an  hour  and  a 
half,  took  us  over  four  hours.  At  last  we  were  near 
enough  for  boats  to  come  to  meet  us.  We  dropped  anchor. 


7 


One  of  the  boats  came  alonside,  bringing  a customs 
official  and  a surgeon.  The  surgeon  asked  whether  there 
were  any  patients  on  board,  glanced  at  our  faces  and 
said  in  a strong  Turkish  accent:  “All  right.”  The 
officials  declared  that  we  were  not  to  sell  any  petrol 
otherwise  than  through  the  medium  of  the  custom  house. 
But  like  the  official  at  Kirassun,  he  left  after  taking 
a “peshkesh”  (present).  The  sailors  and  the  boatswain 
remained  on  board,  hut  we  went  on  shore  and  going  to 
an  inn,  we  slept  soundly  for  no  less  than  twenty  hours. 
It  was  a relief  after  a week’s  voyage  to  sleep  with  our 
clothes  off. 


Amusements  on  Land  and  Sea 

Synop  was  the  last  place  of  our  Turkish  adventures.  We 
were  supposed  to  take  the  course  to  the  west  from  Synop, 
then  turn  northward  at  the  meridian  of  Kerempe,  and 
steer  for  Balaklava.  We  decided  to  investigate,  whether 
there  were  any  feluccas  smuggling  goods  into  the  Crimea 
and  to  find  out  from  their  owners  about  the  rigidity  of 
the  blockade.  Naturally  we  had  to  be  very  careful  in 
carrying  out  our  investigations,  so  as  not  to  give  ourselves 
away;  the  English  had  plenty  of  spies  in  Synop. 

Money-changers  were  squatting  before  their  small 
coffers  on  both  sides  of  the  narrow  streets.  Foreign  bank 
notes  and  coins  were  neatly  piled  under  glass  covers. 
Tsarist  hundred  and  five  hundred  ruble  notes  were  there 
also.  At  that  time  they  still  had  same  value. 

At  dinner  Krylov  told  us  that  the  engine  and  sails 
needed  repairing  after  the  storm.  It  was  impossible  to 
continue  our  voyage  before  two  or  three  days.  When  a 
passenger  boat  arrived  in  port  we  went  to  meet  her; 
Krylov  advised  us  to  go  aboard  and  learn  the  news,  before 
anybody  came  ashore. 


8 


Having  climbed  up  the  rope  gangway,  Krylov  ap- 
proached a mechanic  he  knew,  while  I started  to  talk  with 
two  officers. 

“Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  me  whether  you  have 
any  information  about  the  Crimea?” 

“Excellent  news,”  said  one  of  the  officiers.  “The  Crimea 
has  been  completely  cleared  of  the  Bolsheviks.  General 
Slashchev  is  advancing  towards  Odessa.  The  whole 
Ukraine  will  soon  be  ours!” 

I pretended  I was  pleased  to  hear  this  and  thanked 
him  for  the  information. 

The  whistle  blew,  and  I had  to  go  ashore.  The  news 
received  by  Krylov  and  Irakli  was  approximately  the 
same.  Still  we  refused  to  believe  it.  We  thought  it  was 
the  usual  canard  of  the  emigrants. 

The  next  day  was  a holiday.  A wrestling  match,  the 
usual  holiday  amusement,  was  to  take  place  out  of  town. 
Our  crowd  went  there  to  attend  the  match. 

A large  crowd  was  already  assembled  there.  The  local 
champion  was  proudly  strutting  in  the  arena.  He  ad- 
dressed the  crowd,  challenging  volunteers  to  come  out 
and  wrestle,  hurling  jibes  at  those  who  did  not  dare  to 
accept  his  challenge.  One  of  our  companions,  an  athlete 
by  the  name  of  Kote,  provoked  by  this  boasting,  declared 
his  willingness  to  accept  the  challenge.  A murmur  of 
delight  passed  through  the  crowd.  It  believed  its  favour- 
ite to  be  invincible. 

Kote  and  his  opponent  circled  the  ring.  Like  wild 
beasts  they  crept  towards  each  other,  darting  aside  as  one 
approached  the  other.  While  in  the  French  wrestling 
matches  the  wrestlers  are  allowed  to  touch  each  other 
only  above  the  waist  line,  the  Turkish  rules  do  not 
impose  these  restrictions  and  wrestlers  may  even  catch 
each  other  by  the  legs.  Often  they  resort  to  tripping  each 


9 


other.  The  wrestlers  crouched  very  low  and  appeared 
to  be  walking  on  all  fours.  Kote  had  absolutely  no  ex- 
perience in  the  Turkish  methods.  The  exclamations  and 
the  noise  of  the  crowd  excited  both  wrestlers.  Suddenly 
Kote  deftly  caught  his  opponent  with  a hold  known  in 
French  wrestling  as  a “tour-de-tete,”  and  threw  him  to 
the  ground,  and  the  Turk,  who  had  not  expected  such  a 
trick,  was  knocked  unconscious.  The  crowd  went  wild. 
The  furious  gesticulations  under  Kote’s  very  hose,  and 
threatening  yells,  caused  us  to  fear  that  lie  would  be 
lynched.  We  drew  nearer  to  him,  keeping  our  revolvers 
ready.  The  customs  officials,  who  knew  us,  were  also 
very  alarmed  at  what  might  happen,  and  tried  to  pacify 
the  crowd,  pointing  out  that  Kote  being  a guest,  his 
person  should  not  be  subject  to  violence. 

The  “champion”  revived  and  looked  around,  greatly 
embarrassed.  It  was  his  first  defeat,  and  this  seemed  to  be 
a great  event  in  the  eyes  of  the  citiziens  of  Synop. 

The  next  day  the  repairs  on  the  “Evstrati”  were  finish- 
ed. We  could  continue  our  voyage  the  same  evening.  After 
Synop  we  were  destined  either  to  step  on  Soviet  shores, 
or  never  to  step  on  any  firm  ground  at  all.  For  twenty  four 
hours  more  we  were  to  remain  “honest  merchants.”  After 
that  period  any  English  cruiser  meeting  us  would  address 
us  in  the  language  of  iguns. 

The  most  important  part  of  the  voyage  was  approach- 
ing. 

A few  hours  before  sailing  we  met  a fat  man  in  our 
hotel,  about  45  years  old  apparently  a Russian.  Hhe  was 
accompanied  by  a mountaineer  armed  with  a Mauser. 
To  our  inquiry  about  the  man,  the  hotel  keeper  replied 
that  he  was  a rich  Crimean  lanowner  who  had  recently 
escaped  from  the  Bolsheviks.  He  missed  his  family,  who 
remained  in  the  Crimea. 


10 


He  offered  to  pay  10,000  rubles  in  gold  to  any  smuggler 
who  would  be  able  to  bring  his  family  to  Synop.  No 
volunteers  had  shown  up  as  yet,  the  hotel  keeper  told  us. 

At  dinner  the  landowner  was  the  first  to  address  us, 
and  repeated  the  story  already  known  to  us.  He  abused 
the  Bolshevik  “monsters’ ’ for  a time,  summoning  all  the 
wrath  of  heaven  upon  their  heads,  and  vowed  to  scalp 
with  his  own  hand  the  first  Bolshevik  he  laid  his  hands 
on.  We  agreed  with  him  sympathetically  and  suggested 
even  cruder  methods  of  punishing  the  Bolsheviks.  As 
the  dinner  was  drawing  to  a close,  the  landowner  became 
quite  tipsy  and  was  so  overcome  that  he  began  embracing 
us  all,  and  asked  for  our  addresses  in  the  Caucasus, 
promising  to  visit  us  when  he  got  there  with  his  family. 
We  reciprocated  with  a lot  of  “hot  air,”  giving  him 
fictitious  addresses,  and  after  taking  a very  hearty  leave, 
departed  for  our  vessel.  The  corpulent  old  gentleman 
saluted  us  with  his  handkerchief  for  a long  while,  wishing 
us  a good  voyage. 

During  the  night  we  sailed  at  the  rate  of  6 knots.  The 
following  day  we  were  sailing  by  picturesque  green  shores. 
At  midnight  we  spied  a light — it  was  the  light-house 
on  Cape  Kerempe.  We  woke  up  when  the  sun  was  already 
over  our  heads,  and  we  were  on  a new  course.  The  moun- 
tains were  looming  on  the  horizon.  We  peered  into  the 
horizon  with  apprehension,  but  were  unable  to  discover 
anything  suspicious.  Before  us,  for  scores  of  miles  stretch- 
ed the  mirror-like  surface  of  the  sea,  broken  only  by  the 
gamboling  porpoises.  They  swam  alongside  the  “Evstrati,” 
sometimes  speeding  in  front  of  it,  and  sometimes  remain- 
ing behind  and  catching  the  pieces  of  bread  we  threw 
them.  The  sails  were  half  furled;  the  “Evstrati”  was 
driven  by  the  motor.  About  noon  the  motor  stopped. 


11 


Now  the  motion  was  hardly  noticeable.  Sometimes  it 
appeared  that  we  did  not  budge. 

“Tomorrow,  if  the  weather  is  favourable,”  said  the 
boatswain,  “we  may  see  the  Crimean  mountains  in  the 
north  and  the  Turkish  hills  in  the  south.” 

I could  not  believe  him:  the  distance  would  be  140 
miles! 

The  sun  was  scorching.  The  tent  was  stretched. 

We  decided  to  hunt  porpoises.  One  of  the  sailors 
brought  out  the  harpoon — a pole  about  two  metres  long, 
with  an  iron  point  and  two  adjustable  drifts.  A long  rope 
was  attached  to  the  harpoon,  the  free  end  of  which  was 
tied  to  the  hull  of  the  “Evstrati.”  A sailor  stood  on  a taut 
chain,  attached  at  one  end  to  the  bow  of  the  vessel  and 
at  the  other  to  the  mast.  Standing  on  the  chain  he 
watched  the  water,  awaiting  the  moment  when  a porpoise 
would  pass  under  him,  then,  seizing  the  opportunity,  he 
would  throw  his  harpoon.  If  the  cast  was  successful,  the 
water  was  immediately  dyed  red  by  the  blood.  The  beast 
rushed  forward,  unravelling  the  rope.  The  three  of  us 
had  to  use  all  our  strength  to  draw  it  up.  But  as  soon 
as  the  porpoise  was  drawn  out  of  the  water,  it  immedi- 
ately lost  all  its  vigour. 

Eight  porpoises  were  killed  in  two  hours. 

A Mysterious  Cruiser 

The  night  passed  without  any  trouble;  the  wind  which 
grew  stronger,  was  favourable.  We  were  awakend  by  the 
sun  in  a clear  surface  of  the  sea.  The  porpoises  were 
shooting  through  the  green  waves  like  arrows.  We  were 
right  in  the  middle  of  the  Black  Sea.  The  words  of  the 
boatswain  come  true:  somewhere,  far  away,  lay  the 
contours  of  the  hills  of  Asia  Minor,  behind  us,  and  the 


12 


Crimea  mountains  loomed  in  front  of  us.  They  looked 
like  clouds  which  were  taking  the  shape  of  mountains. 
I still  am  not  sure  that  these  were  really  mountains  in 
front  of  us. 

By  midday  the  wind  had  increased.  The  vessel  was 
moving  along  at  the  rate  of  6 knots.  We  were  thinking 
that  we  might  reach  our  destination  on  the  following 
evening,  provided  we  had  no  accidents,  for  we  carried  no 
lights  at  night.  In  the  morning  we  saw  the  mountains 
distinctly,  apparently  quite  near,  though  in  reality  the 
distance  was  not  less  than  20  miles.  We  were  straining 
our  eyes,  peering  into  the  horizon,  afraid  of  seeing  the 
“blockade.”  The  weather  was  becoming  dull.  We  were 
glad  of  this,  as  it  decreased  the  visibility.  Sea-gulls  began 
to  appear. 

Suddenly  somebody  spied  the  hardly  visible  outline  of 
a cruiser.  There  could  be  no  doubt  ....  A cruiser  was 
coming  across  the  course  of  the  “Evstrati.”  Blast  it!  It 
would  be  naive  to  imagine  that  we  could  be  saved  by 
explanations  to  the  effect  that  our  destination  was  not  a 
Soviet  port.  This  ruse  night  suceed  somewhere  near  the 
Turkish  shores,  hut  here  it  was  too  late  to  deny  the  real 
object  of  our  voyage.  The  cruiser  was  approaching  from 
behind.  Krylov  ordered  us  to  get  the  life-belts  ready. 

“Would  it  not  ibe  beter  to  throw  ourselves  overboard 
right  now?”  I thought.  “There  isn’t  the  slightest  chance 
of  reaching  the  shore,  but  there  is  no  other  way  out;  and 
it  will  be  too  late  to  jump  overboard  when  the  cruiser 
begins  to  fire.”  The  “Evestrati,”  loaded  with  petrol,  will 
be  blown  to  pieces  by  the  first  shell.  And  if  we  could  not 
swim  away  a considerable  distance  from  the  vessel,  we 
would  be  caught  by  the  burning  benzene. 

The  cruiser  approached  us  to  a distance  of  about  two 
miles  Then  suddenly  it  reduced  its  speed  and  began 


13 


to  turn  its  poop  towards  us.  What  could  it  mean?  We 
could  only  suspect  that  they  wanted  to  fire  their  poop- 
guns  at  us.  All  ready  to  jump  overboard,  we  anxiously 
watched  the  guns,  expecting  any  moment  to  see  them 
flash.  However,  the  distance  between  the  vessels  began 
gradually  to  grow. 

What  had  happened? 

Was  it  possible  that  for  training  purposes  the  cruiser 
was  trying  to  complicate  the  problem,  and  to  allow  a 
certain  distance  before  firing?  The  guns  remained  silent; 
we  were  getting  jumpier  every  moment.  It  seemed  ever 
so  much  better  to  be  shot  at  and  get  it  over,  for  we  should 
at  least  escape  the  terrible  uncertainty.  At  last  two  of  the 
flashes  we  had  been  waiting  for  made  their  appearance 
and  the  shells  fell  near  us,  raising  columns  of  water.  That 
was  all.  Then,  silence  again. 

The  cruiser  was  leaving.  It  was  growing  dark  ...  We 
could  not  understand.  For  some  reason  the  cruiser  did 
not  want  to  sink  us. 

“It  is  good  that  we  are  arriving  at  night,”  said  Krylov. 
“More  chance  to  pass  unsuspected,  and  if  we  are  noticed, 
it  will  be  difficult  to  shoot.” 

A little  later,  he  added: 

“I  hope  we  don’t  strike  any  blockade  at  the  entrance  of 
Sebastopol  Bay.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  sail  quietly 
past  Sebastopol  and  to  drop  anchor  in  Evpatoria?  It  is 
a small  town,  and  is  of  no  importance  as  a port.  We  will 
attract  no  attention  there.” 

Everybody  agreed. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  we  left  Sebastopol  behind.  We 
could  now  congratulate  ourselves  on  the  satisfactory  ter- 
mination of  our  Odyssey.  Four  or  five  more  hours  of 
sailing  and  the  anchor  would  be  dropped;  all  our  dangers 
would  be  left  behind.  Late  in  the  night  we  approached 


14 


Evpatoria.  We  decided  to  land  in  the  morning;  it  was 
quite  probable  that  the  city  would  be  under  martial  law. 

Sleep  was  a great  temptation  after  so  much  excitement 
and  alarm.  Full  of  joy  we  were  congratulating  each  other. 
At  last,  after  so  many  trials  we  felt  ourselves  free  citizens 
of  Soviet  Russia! 

In  the  Camp  of  the  White  Guards 

It  was  dawn  when  I opened  my  eyes.  The  sea  was 
covered  with  a fog  which  hid  the  shore.  The  outlines  of 
tall  buildings  and  churches  were  hardly  visible.  Not 
far  from  the  “Evstrati”  and  on  both  sides  of  it  sailing 
vessels  were  rolling  on  the  waves.  Everybody  was  up 
and  cheerfully  smiling. 

A four-oared  rowing  boat  started  from  the  shore  and 
headed  for  the  “Evstrati.”  Five  men  armed  with  rifles 
were  in  the  boat.  This  surprised  us,  but  at  first  we  were 
happy  to  see  them.  However,  with  every  moment  a 
certain  involuntary  alarm  began  to  get  hold  of  us.  We 
could  not  understand  the  reason  for  the  rifles,  and  our 
instinct  told  us  that  something  was  wrong.  Suddenly  the 
cause  of  our  alarm  was  quite  clear:  through  the  milky 
mist  we  noticed  the  shoulder-straps  of  the  men  in  the 
boat!  The  boat  contained  cossacks  and  an  officer  . . . 
We  felt  as  if  a shower  of  cold  water  had  been  thrown 
over  us.  Was  it  possible  that  all  our  hopes  and  chances, 
our  triumph  of  yesterday,  had  come  to  nothing?  We  had 
been  so  glad:  we  had  “broken  the  blockade”  and  “arrived 
among  our  friends,”  to  ’’supply  the  army  with  petrol,” 
etc.  The  half-hearted  shooting  of  the  cruiser  became 
clear  at  once.  There  was  no  escape  for  us  anyway!  I had 
hardly  time  to  tear  up  and  throw  overboard  all  the  party 
corresp  ondence. 

“Where  is  this  vessel  from? 


15 


“From  Poti,  with  a cargo  of  petrol.” 

The  officer  came  on  board  the  “Evestrati”  accompanied 
by  a cossack. 

“Who  is  the  owner?” 

“I  and  my  partners,”  was  the  placid  reply  of  Irakli. 

“The  owners  and  the  skipper  will  please  follow  me  on 
shore!  The  rest  are  to  remain  on  hoard!” 

The  officer  was  polite,  hut  his  voice  sounded  vicious. 
We  climbed  down  into  the  boat  and  set  off.  The  officer 
enquired  whether  we  had  all  the  necessary  documents 
and  warned  us  that  we  should  probably  have  to  wait 
a few  hours  in  the  office  of  the  Commandant,  till  the 
General  woke  up.  We  asked  him  to  tell  us  about  the 
situation  in  the  town,  and  how  far  the  Bolsheviks  were. 
From  his  curt  replies  we  gathered  that  the  Reds  had 
been  driven  from  Evpatoria  only  four  days  ago  and  were 
retreating  northwards.  In  the  office  of  the  Commandant, 
another  officer,  who  proved  to  be  the  Commandant’s 
assistant,  began  the  cross-examination.  How  could  we 
explain  why  we  were  in  the  Crimea  instead  of  Constan- 
tinople? When  the  “Evstrati”  was  leaving  Synop,  we 
could  have  had  no  precise  knowledge  about  the  eva- 
cuation of  the  Crimea  by  the  Bolsheviks.  Consequently 
the  petrol  we  carried  was  intended  for  the  supply  of  the 
Bolsheviks?  The  hazardous  situation  was  enhanced  by 
the  absence  of  any  preliminary  agreement  between  us 
as  to  what  answers  should  be  given  in  such  an  emergency, 
so  that  we  simply  had  to  answer  at  random.  Our  cross- 
examiner made  it  quite  clear  that  our  fate  fully  depended 
upon  his  report  to  General  Larionov. 

“Your  conduct,”  a significant  glance  in  our  direction, 
“will  reveal  what  you  are.” 

We  guessed  that  he  was  after  a bribe.  It  ended  with  his 
suggestion  that  we  should  meet  him  the  same  evening  at 


16 


the  restaurant  “Russia.”  In  his  opinion  a meeting  between 
us  aind  General  Larionov  was  not  “urgent”  in  the  mean- 
while, and  he  made  us  sign  a promise  not  to  leave  the 
city. 

We  left  the  office  in  high  spirits  and  decided  to  pay 
well  to  extricate  our  heads  from  the  noose.  That  evening 
we  kept  our  appointment.  In  one  of  the  corners  of  the 
hotel  garden  we  noticed  five  officers  engaged  in  a lively 
conversation.  The  Commandant’s  assistant  invited  us  to 
his  table  as  soon  as  he  spotted  us,  and  introduced  us  as 
friends  who  had  just  arrived  from  Georgia.  The  company 
was  rather  typsy,  it  was  continually  growing,  and  new 
tables  were  always  being  added.  Being  tipsy  our  new 
friends  were  rather  noisy  anid  unconstrained,  and  soon 
we  found  out  that  among  our  companions  were  the  head 
of  the  Jocal  intelligence  service,  the  head  of  the  intel- 
ligence service  of  the  third  corps,  and  a lieutenant  of 
Kornilov’s  regiment,  who  was  in  Evpatoria  for  medical 
treatment. 

By  midnight,  very  drunk,  and  hardly  able  to  stand,  the 
officers  dispersed  to  their  homes.  Irakli  paid  about  80 
gold  rubles  for  the  feast.  Tired,  but  happy  at  the  way 
things  had  turned  out,  we  were  trying  to  decide  how  the 
required  bribe  should  be  given.  The  next  morning  the 
officer  solved  this  problem  for  us. 

“Wouldn’t  it  be  tiice  to  have  a game  of  cards  tonight!’’ 

We  understood  that  he  was  showing  us  the  means  of 
giving  him  the  money.  The  very  same  evening  Irakli  lost 
200  rubles  to  him.  While  playing,  the  officer  assured 
Irakli  that  his  report  to  Larionov  would  be  “in  the  most 
favourable  light,”  but  that  as  there  was  absolutely  no 
petrol  in  the  town,  the  general  would  be  sure  to  demand 
the  confiscation  of  our  cargo. 

We  begged  for  mercy. 

2 e 


17 


“Don’t  min  us*  poor  honest  trademen!  Please  help  us 
to  sell  the  petrol  at  our  own  price!” 

At  first  the  officer  refused,  referring  to  the  stubbornness 
of  the  Commandant,  but  finally  he  promised  to  “put  in  a 
word  for  us,”  giving  us  a hint  about  a further  bribe.  Two 
days  later  we  received  a permit  to  trade.  Our  “friend” 
assured  us  later  that  he  had  had  to  share  the  bribe  with 
his  chief. 

It  seemed  that  the  danger  was  over,  hut  I was  afraid 
that  our  companions,  particularly  the  sailors,  might  easily 
min  us  when  drunk.  We  were  anxious  to  get  rid  of  the 
crew  of  the  “Evstrati”  as  soon  as  possible.  Furthermore, 
every  day  of  its  stay  was  an  extra  expense. 

We  Become  “Honest  Tradesmen  y 

Irakli  and  I decided  at  last  to  unload  our  cargo  and 
to  discharge  the  “Evstrati.”  We  began  to  look  for  a suit- 
able storage  place  int  he  city. 

A week  later  the  cargo  was  on  shore.  Our  trade  was 
very  poor,  very  few  of  our  sales  excesded  30  to  50  kilo- 
grams. We  were  being  delayed,  whereas  we  were  anxious 
to  disappear  as  soon  as  possible.  At  the  same  time  we 
did  not  want  to  effect  a final  settlement  with  the  crew: 
it  was  necessary  that  they  should  depend  on  us  all  the 
time  that  we  remained  in  Evpatoria.  We  therefore  re- 
solved to  purchase  salt  (the  most  profitable  merchandise 
at  the  time)  and  to  send  the  “Evstrati”  back  to  Batum, 
where  the  crew  would  receive  all  the  payment  due  them. 

Many  a time  Irakli  in  his  conversations  with  me  mem- 
tioned  that  I must  thank  my  fate  for  remaining  alive. 
He  insisted  on  my  return  to  the  Caucasus,  but  I decided 
to  make  my  way  to  Moscow. 

It  happened  once  that  one  of  our  companious,  Sasha 
K.,  came  hack  to  the  hotel  accompanied  by  a strange  man 


18 


of  about  30,  of  an  oriental  type.  He  introduced  him  as 
his  countryman,  an  engineer,  Pirumov.  He  had  met 
Pirumov  in  a restaurant.  We  could  not  he  too  careful 
under  the  circumstance,  and  I mentally  reprimanded 
Sasha  for  his  thoughtlessness.  However,  we  soon  became 
friends  with  Pirumov,  and  I even  visited  him  at  his  home. 
He  lived  in  the  hoarding  house  of  ia  German  on  Senstors 
Street  together  with  his  sister  and  her  friend  Nastia.  Piru- 
mov told  us  how  they  had  escaped  from  Moscow  recently, 
and  of  the  cruelty  of  the  Bolsheviks,  bitterly  complain- 
ing that  his  relatives  remained  in  “Sovdepia.44  We  spent 
all  our  free  time  together. 

Once,  walking  in  the  garden.  Pirumov  hegged  me  to 
send  him  on  the  44Evstrati”  to  the  Caucasus.  I was  sur- 
prised at  his  request.  What  pleasure  could  he  derive  from 
traveling  on  a sailing  felucca,  without  any  passenger 
accommodations,  when  he  could  easily  travel  by  a com- 
fortable passenger  liner.  Somewhat  embarrassed,  he  ex- 
plained that  he  was  afraid  of  mobilisation  into  the  army. 
The  steamship  companies  sell  tickets  only  against  the 
permit  of  the  military  authorities.  I promised  to  arrange 
his  voyage  on  the  “Evstmti”  and  we  agreed  to  keep  it 
secret. 

The  sailing  of  the  “Evstrati”  with  the  cargo  of  salt 
was  fixed  for  the  middle  of  August.  Due  to  my  insistence 
Irakli  consented  to  allow  Pirumov  on  board,  while  he 
himself  decided  to  go  by  passanger  steamer.  I was  com- 
pelled to  remain  a few  more  days  in  Evpatoria,  to  leave 
later  for  the  north.  I hoped  to  get  to  Moscow. 

On  the  day  the  “Evstrati”  was  to  sail,  Pirumov  and  his 
sister  came  to  the  vessel  and  went  down  into  the  hold. 
Irakli  and  I were  already  on  board.  Ten  minutes  before 
starting,  I went  down  into  the  hold  to  say  good-bye  to 
Pirumov.  Already,  several  days  before,  my  suspicions  had 


2* 


19 


been  aroused.  It  seemed  to  me  that  mobilisation  was  not 
the  only  thing  he  feared,  for  certain  of  his  ways,  his 
manner  of  turning  round  in  the  streets  to  see  that  there 
were  no  spies  following,  and  other  little  things  made  me 
suspect  that  he  was  one  of  “us.” 

Here,  in  the  hold,  I had  a sudden  impulse  to  take  a 
chance  and  ask  him  bluntly. 

“Let’s  he  honest.  Even  if  I am  mistaken,  I have  nothing 
to  fear  from  you:  you  will  not  he  allowed  on  shore 
again.  And  should  you  wish  to  report  me  in  Batum,  it 
will  be  too  late.  All  traces  of  me  will  disappear  from 
Evpatoria  tomorrow.  I am  a Bolshevik.  I was  sent  by  the 
Transcaucasian  District  Committee  with  a special  mission. 
As  you  are  aware,  I landed  among  the  Whites  and  have 
contrived  so  far  to  remain  safe.  My  name  is  Shaumyan, 
not  Barkhydariants.  Probably  you  have  heard  it  already. 
Who  are  you? 

Pirumov  grew  pale.  He  at  first  thought  it  was  provoca- 
tion, but  my  sincere  tone  and  my  last  words  evidently 
convinced  him.  With  great  haste,  so  as  to  have  time  to 
tell  me  everything,  the  anchor  chains  could  already  be 
heard  and  Krylov  was  swearing  at  me  for  the  delay  of 
Pirumov  and  his  sister  (later  I found  out  that  she  was 
his  wife  “Mukha” — he  confirmed  my  suspicions.  We 
shook  hands  heartily. 

“My  name  is  not  Pirumov.  I am  Sergei  Babakhan,”  he 
told  me,  greatly  excited.  Go  to  Nastia  and  tell  her  of  our 
conversation.  She  is  one  of  us,  and  will  bring  you  into 
contact  with  our  lads.  They  will  help  you  to  get  past  the 
front.” 

I took  leave  of  them  in  a hurry  and  jumped  into  the 
boat,  when  the  “Evstrati”  was  already  moving.  I found 
Irakli  in  the  boat  but,  naturally,  told  him  nothing. 


20 


With  the  Secret  Service  and  Revolutionaries 

The  next  day  I went  to  see  Nastia,  the  friend  of  Piru- 
inov’s  wife  and  had  a long  talk  with  her  on  different 
subjects,  trying  to  induce  her  to  speak  about  politics. 
I sensed  immediately  she  was  on  the  alert,  hut  she  did 
not  take  the  bait,  turning  all  hints  into  jokes  and  in 
general  playing  the  role  of  a frivolous  “flapper.”  Than 
I told  her  bluntly  about  the  consersation  of  the  previous 
day.  She  was  flabbergasted.  I felt  her  struggling  between 
two  feelings:  joy  that  I was  of  their  “own”  and  fear  of 
provocation.  At  last  all  doubts  were  dissipated  and  she 
agreed  to  introduce  me  to  our  comrades  that  very  even- 
ing. 

In  the  evening  I called  for  her  and  we  started.  On  the 
outskirts  of  the  city  she  knocked  at  the  window  of  a 
little  one-storied  house.  The  door  was  opened  by  a tall 
brunette  of  about  twenty-eight,  who  was  holding  a kero- 
sene lamp.  Smiling,  Nastia  said:  “Sonia,  here  is  one  of 
our  lads,”  and  we  passed  into  the  room,  where  several 
persons  were  present:  Alexander,  a student,  looking  rather 
seedy,  his  wife  Sonia,  Alesha  Avelev,  a youth  with  brist- 
ling hair,  who  was  the  brother  of  the  first  Sonia,  and 
Andriushka,  a lovely  child  of  three,  who  began  to  examine 
me  with  great  interest.  My  reception  was  very  warm,  and 
for  the  first  time  after  many  months  of  playing  the  role 
of  a merchant  and  cruel  foe  of  Bolshevism,  and  after 
so  many  ambiguous  situations,  I felt  myself  in  friendly 
surroundings  and  secure.  I began  to  visit  them  every 
evening.  Irakli,  of  course,  knew  nothing  of  my  connection 
with  the  underground  revolutionaries.  My  frequent  ab- 
sence from  home,  I explained  by  telling  him  I spent  my 
time  with  Nastia.  Nevertheless  I felt  that  he  had  begun 
to  suspect  something,  as  he  persisted  in  advising  me  to 


21 


return  to  the  Caucasus.  Irakli,  himself,  was  ready  to  leave 
any  day. 

At  that  time  the  group  of  revolutionaries  had  not  yet 
contrived  to  do  anything.  As  always  happens  after  a de- 
bacle, only  small  groups  of  Bolsheviks  had  remained 
in  the  Crimea,  and  they  could  hardly  establish  any 
connections.  It  was  a period  when  the  wounds  received 
in  battles  were  being  taken  care  of.  There  was  a stronger 
group  in  Sebastopol,  headed  hy  Comrade  Haikevich 
(“Malchishka”)  and  this  group  did  succeed  in  establish- 
ing some  connection  with  the  port  workers.  Our  Evpator- 
ian  group  was  connected  with  Haikevich.  I recall  how 
once  a telegram  was  received  from  him,  reading 
“Send  twenty  gross  mother  of  pearl.”  It  meant  he  needed 
two  thousand  rubles  in  tsarist  notes  of  100  rubles  each. 
The  Evpatorian  group  was  afraid  to  communicate  with 
Sebastopol  hy  rail.  Therefore  a vehicle  and  a team  of 
horses  were  purchased  for  the  purpose  and  entrusted  to 
a comrade  who  was  thought  to  be  sympathetic  to  the 
Bolshevik  movement.  He  was  supposed  to  use  this  team 
for  taking  the  money  to  Haikevich.  However  he  proved 
to  be  a blackguard  and,  taking  advantage  of  the  situation, 
appropriated  the  team  and  the  vehicle.  It  was  lucky  he 
did  not  betray  the  whole  group. 

My  own  situation  was  rather  ticklish.  On  one  hand,  I 
was  a merchant  and  a boon  companion  of  the  officers 
of  the  secret  service  and  enjoyed  their  full  confidence. 
On  the  other  hand,  I was  a revolutionary,  connected  with 
an  underground  organisation.  Irakli,  neither  White  nor 
Red,  knew  me  quite  well.  If  he  were  a less  honest  man, 
he  might  betray  me  at  any  moment.  I was  also  well 
known  to  the  crew  of  the  “Evstrati,”  who  might  also  quite 
easily  betray  me  when  drunk,  or  even  from  sheer  stup- 
idity. 


22 


The  confidence  of  the  secret  service  men  was  very 
great.  One  day  one  of  them  came  to  my  room,  closed  the 
door,  and  burst  out: 

“Do  me  a favour.  A sailing  vessel  loaded  with  arms 
is  expected  to  arrive  for  the  Bolsheviks;  the  arms  will  he 
loaded  at  the  bottom  of  the  boat  and  concealed  by  some 
kind  of  merchandise.  Two  Armenians  are  in  charge  of 
the  boat.  We  shall  arrange  for  observation.  As  soon  as 
the  boat  arrives,  go  there,  make  friends  with  the  Armen- 
ians and  try  to  gain  their  confidence,  and  promise  to 
provide  them  with  storage  for  the  arms.  All  right?  The 
reward  will  be  a large  one  for  both  of  us.” 

Concealing  my  excitement,  I readily  agreed.  The  man 
came  to  see  me  twice  during  that  week,  telling  me  of  the 
arrival  of  suspicious  sailing  boats.  I went  to  the  pier  to 
watch  the  crew.  I succeeded  in  making  the  acquaintance 
of  one  of  them,  having  taken  a place  at  his  table  in  a 
cafe.  Our  friendship  lasted  two  days,  but  all  in  vain.  I 
found  out  in  the  end  that  he  was  a Greek  and  only  re- 
sembled an  Armenian.  He  had  smuggled  from  Constan- 
tinople all  kinds  of  fancy  goods  and  offered  to  sell  me  a 
large  parcel  of  ladies’  stockings,  scent  powder,  and  two 
pails  of  iodine.  I told  him  I was  more  interested  in  cur- 
rency and  we  parted.  Thus,  we  failed  to  catch  the  Bol- 
shevik arms,  and  were  mighty  sorry,  both  of  us,  but  for 
very  different  reasons.  He  was  deploring  the  loss  of  the 
money  reward,  while  I was  afraid  that  the  transport 
missed  by  me  might  indeed  be  caught.  I found  out  later 
that  the  Northern  Caucasus  did  indeed  supply  arms  to 
the  Crimean  “greens,”  but  the  arms  were  delivered  to 
the  southern  shores  of  the  Crimea  and  not  to  Evpatoria. 


23 


I Become  Barkhudayants 

Irakli  left,  and  I was  the  only  one  of  the  whole  expedi- 
tion who  remained  in  Evpatoria.  The  papers  were  full  of 
reports  about  the  glorious  victories  of  the  “Volunteer 
Armies”  and  discussions  of  the  candidates  to  the  throne 
of  the  “Russian  Empire.”  It  was  high  time  for  me  to  get 
away.  At  first  I made  a plan  to  reach  Perekop,  hoping 
to  get  from  there  to  Port  Skadovsk,  by  boat,  as  the  latter 
place  was  still  in  the  hands  of  the  Bolsheviks.  However, 
when  I found  out  that  the  successful  operations  of  the 
Whites  had  made  this  plan  impracticable,  I made  up  a 
new  one  to  reach  Alexandrovsk  by  rail,  from  there  to 
cross  the  Dnieper  River  somewhere  between  Alexan- 
drovsk and  Krivoi  Rog,  thus  reaching  the  country  of  the 
Soviets.  However,  the  chances  of  successfully  carrying  out 
this  plan  were  decreasing  every  day  as  the  whole  section 
of  the  Red  Army  which  was  fighting  around  Odessa 
might  he  cut  off  from  Moscow  at  any  moment.  I therefore 
decided  to  go  first  to  Kharkov  atid  then  further  north, 
expecting  to  wait  somewhere  in  the  front  line,  till  the 
Reds  attacked  and  occupied  it.  It  was  very  difficult  to 
get  to  Moscow,  hut  it  was  still  more  difficult  to  remain 
in  Evpatoria  devising  all  kinds  of  plans,  which  due  to 
the  rapid  progress  of  political  events  had  to  be  changed 
with  the  speed  of  a cinema!  It  was  at  all  events  necessary 
to  start;  after  that  things  could  look  after  themselves. 
One  thing  was  quite  clear,  nothing  could  induce  me  to 
give  up  trying. 

I did  not  drop  my  friendship  with  the  officers,  my  boon 
companions,  hoping  they  might  yet  be  of  some  use  to  me. 
We  had  two  or  three  more  parties  after  Irakli’s  departure, 
accompanied  by  the  inevitable  cursing  of  the  Bolsheviks 
and  toasts  to  the  health  of  Generals  Denikin,  Slashchev, 


24 


Mai-Mayevsky,  Shilling,  and  others.  The  tipsy  officers, 
and  particularly  a young  assistant  of  the  chief  of  the 
secret  service  department  of  the  3rd  Corps,  used  to  tell 
with  gusto  how  they  had  hanged  Bolsheviks,  or  shot  them 
in  bunches.  This  officer  always  carried  in  his  pocket 
a piece  of  rope  on  which  he  had  hanged  a Bolshevik 
Commissar  in  Simferopol.  These  suppers  always  ended  in 
debauchery. 

Once,  when  dead  drunk,  one  of  our  boon  companions, 
the  lieutenant  of  Kornilov’s  regiment,  ordered  the  band 
to  play  “God  Save  the  Czar.”  It  was  about  2 A.  M.  The 
people  in  the  hall  were  so  drunk  that  they  could  hardly 
understand  what  was  going  on.  Some  of  the  officers  were 
lying  unconscious  under  the  tables,  and  some  of  the  guests 
did  not  rise  when  it  was  played.  It  should  also  be  pointed 
out  that  the  music  was  also  quite  drunken,  as  the  musi- 
cians could  not  even  control  their  instruments,  Suddenly 
a strong  crash  and  the  sound  of  breaking  glass  aroused  us. 
In  a frenzy  of  patriotism,  the  lieutenant  had  thrown  a 
couple  of  empty  bottles  at  a neighbouring  table  occupied 
by  a group  of  civilians.  Panic  followed;  everybody  was 
moving  about.  The  drunken  lieutenant  was  yelling: 

“I  will  not  allow  the  civilian  rabble  to  show  their 
disrespect  for  His  Imperial  Majesty!  Get  out,  you  black- 
guards!” 

We  tried  to  pacify  him  in  vain.  Fortunately  a com- 
paratively sober  colonel  came  over  to  our  table  and 
ordered  the  lieutenant  to  leave  the  restaurant,  which  he 
did  with  great  displeasure.  Such  scenes  could  be  seen 
daily  in  the  restaurants. 

Another  time  I was  present  when  some  tipsy  officers 
made  a bet  as  to  who  could  cut  down  one  of  the  thick 
palms  which  decorated  the  hall  with  the  smallest  number 
of  strokes.  In  spite  of  the  protests  and  pleading  of  the 


25 


owner  and  the  head  waiter,  two  officers  began  to  strike 
the  expensive  trees  with  their  swords,  with  savage  glee. 
After  four  of  the  palms  had  been  destroyed  the  officers 
threw  to  the  waiter  a hunch  of  notes  and  continued  drink- 
ing. Having  added  a few  more  bottles  the  officers,  now 
absolutely  drunk,  began  to  fire  their  revolvers  at  the 
chandeliers,  breaking  the  lamps.  As  everybody  was  drunk, 
nobody  noticed  the  showers  of  glass  which  fell  on  the 
plates  and  the  heads  of  the  guests.  Each  successful  shot 
was  applauded. 

I was  happy  to  observe  these  scenes:  there  could  be 
no  victory  for  an  army  having  such  commanders. 

Once,  after  one  of  these  suppers,  the  guests  met  the 
police  as  they  were  going  out  of  the  restaurant  garden. 
It  happened  to  be  a raid  for  deserters.  After  documents 
were  checked,  many  were  released,  while  the  most  sus- 
picious persons  were  led  aside  and  left  in  the  care  of 
policemen.  Unfortunately  I left  my  passport  in  the  hotel 
for  registration  and  had  no  document  with  me.  Protests 
were  of  no  avail.  In  company  with  a score  of  others,  I 
was  led  to  the  police  station.  I hoped  that  the  constable 
on  duty  would  telephone  to  my  hotel  to  verify  my  state- 
ment. It  was  about  3 o’clock.  The  officer  on  duty  refused 
to  telephone  and  yawningly  ordered  them  to  take  me 
away — tomorrow  everything  would  be  settled.  I must  ad- 
mit that  I was  a bit  fuddled,  and  in  such  a state  calm 
action  is  out  of  the  question.  Realising  this,  I decided 
to  submit,  afraid  of  saying  something  wrong  in  my  excite- 
ment. 

I passed  the  night  sittng  on  a stool  in  a cellar  of  which 
the  floor  was  dirty,  covered  with  spittle  and  cigarette 
ends.  Several  scores  of  the  most  disreputable  riff-raff  were 
there  using  a slang  quite  unintelligible  to  me.  Twice  they 
started  to  fight,  but  were  stopped  by  the  punches  lavishly 


26 


distributed  by  the  police  officer  on  duty.  Sleep  was  out 
of  the  question. 

At  last  day  began  to  break.  The  time  was  dragging 
painfully.  About  ten  o’clock  we  were  summoned  one  by 
one  for  cross-examination.  A police  officer  with  a fluffy 
black  mustache,  and  clad  in  a smart  uniform,  majestically 
presided  at  a large  desk.  His  gloomy  countenance  bright- 
ened up  after  the  first  few  words  of  our  conversation.  It 
happened  that  before  1917  he  had  been  a police  constable 
in  Baku. 

“Is  Barkhudayants,  who  owned  a wine  shop,  a relation 
of  yours?” 

I knew  of  the  existence  of  such  a firm  in  Baku,  but 
being  afraid  that  the  officer  might  be  well  acquainted 
with  the  family,  whom  I did  not  know,  I replied  shortly 
that  the  owner  of  the  firm  was  my  uncle. 

“Ah,  what  wonderful  Matrassinsky  wine  he  had ! Many 
a barrel  did  he  send  me  every  Christmas  and  Easter;  a 
pleasant  city,  Baku  ...” 

Our  conversation  lasted  about  half  an  hour.  He  asked 
me  when  I intended  to  go  hack  and  promised  to  visit 
me  at  my  hotel  on  the  following  day  with  letters  for  his 
friends  in  Baku.  With  this  we  parted.  He  came  to  see  me 
the  next  day  and  we  discussed  the  pleasures  of  Baku, 
while  drinking  tea.  He  igave  me  three  letters  addressed  to 
three  police  officers  and  asked  me  to  convey  his  greetings 
by  word  of  mouth.  That  evening  I opened  the  letters, 
hoping  to  find  out  something  which  would  be  of  service 
to  me.  The  officer  wrote  that  he  was  satisfied  with  his 
life.  It  is  true  that  the  salary  was  not  too  large,  only 
120  rubles,  but  thanks  to  God  and  the  smugglers  the  in- 
come was  sometimes  as  large  as  500  rubles  a month.  He 
wrote  candidly  that  “His  Excellency”  Kovalov,  the  former 
governor  of  Baku  was  now  governor  in  Stavropol  and  was 


27 


very  kind  to  his  former  colleagues  from  Baku.  “There* 
fore,  if  you  are  not  satisfied  with  your  government,  just 
go  to  His  Excellency.  He  will  readily  give  you  an  appoint- 
ment.” They  were  all  in  this  vein.  Not  long  before  my 
departure  from  Evpatoria,  having  met  me  in  the  street, 
the  officer  “borrowed”  20  rubles  from  me.  I never  saw  my 
money  again. 

Through  the  White  Army  to  Red  Moscow 

A special  permit  from  the  military  authorities  was 
required  to  go  to  Kharkov.  My  “friends”  provided  me 
with  one.  Furthermore,  the  chief  of  the  local  secret 
service  department  got  me  a license  to  carry  a revolver, 
and  got  me  a fairly  good  one  for  20  rubles.  There  was 
no  regular  railway  connection  with  the  north.  The  trains 
consisted  of  freight  cars  accommodating  from  40  to  50 
passengers,  who  were  literally  packed  like  sardines. 

Three  troop-cars  were  attached  to  my  train,  for  a hun- 
dred cossacks  and  their  officers.  The  officers  were  from 
Kuban  and  wore  Circassian  national  coats.  They  all  drank 
throughout  the  journey.  At  some  stations  they  leaped  out 
of  the  cars,  formed  a circle  and  executed  a wild  dance 
to  the  sounds  of  an  accordion.  A crowd  would  rapidly 
accumulate.  Vainly  did  the  station  master  beg  them  to  get 
back  into  the  train. 

The  officers  would  threaten  him  with  their  swords,  and 
yell : 

“Don’t  you  dare  to  start  the  train,  you  bitch,  while  the 
Kubans  are  dancing!  We’ll  tell  you  when  we  are  tired!” 

Due  to  their  dancing  the  train  several  times  remained 
for  2 or  3 hours  at  a station.  A little  north  of  Melitopol, 
we  were  startled  by  rifle  shooting.  The  train  stopped.  We 
had  happened  to  be  passing  a pleasant  meadow  and  the 
officers  had  decided  to  use  it  for  their  dancing.  For  a long 


28 


while  they  tried  to  attract  the  engine-driver’s  attention 
with  handkerchiefs  and  whistling,  but  he  did  not  notice 
their  signals.  It  was  then  that  they  decided  to  resort  to 
shooting  and  thus  stop  the  train.  In  this  way  they  suc- 
ceeded, and  the  dancing  began.  Drunk,  red  in  the  face, 
hardly  able  to  stand  on  their  legs,  they  executed  a wild 
Caucasian  dance  thirty  paces  from  the  track,  inspiring 
terror  in  the  souls  of  the  other  passengers  by  their  savage 
appearance.  Finally,  after  a whole  hour,  they  were  so 
tired  that  the  cossacks  had  to  carry  them  to  their  cars, 
and  the  engine  driver  was  permitted  to  continue  the 
journey.  Notwithstanding  all  the  troubles  connected  with 
their  presence,  they  were  in  one  way  useful  to  us.  Without 
them  we  would  have  been  compelled  to  remain  for  hours 
at  the  stations  awaiting  locomotives,  as  these  were  given 
to  passenger  trains  only  when  needed  for  no  other  work. 
Our  officers  burst  into  the  offices  of  the  station  masters 
and  with  threats  compelled  them  to  give  us  a fresh  engine 
at  once.  We  therefore  proceeded  at  double  speed.  At  the 
stations  of  Sinelnikovo  and  Lozovaya  our  cars  were  at- 
tacked by  the  officers  of  another  regiment  together  with 
gendarmes  who  demanded  the  delivery  of  all  Jews  into 
their  hands.  The  day  before  in  Sinelnikovo  5 Jews  had 
been  dragged  out  of  the  train  and  shot.  Their  blood  was 
still  visible  on  the  platform. 

At  last  the  train  arrived  at  Kharkov.  I decided  to  spend 
the  night  at  the  station.  It  was  necessary  to  get  a ticket  to 
Belgorod  early  in  the  morning.  All  ordinary  mortals  were 
forbidden  to  go  there.  The  tickets  were  sold  only  upon 
presentation  of  a special  permit  from  the  local  military 
authorities.  There  was  no  chance  of  any  official  assistance. 
I was  helped  by  one  of  the  red-capped  porters  who  were 
crowding  in  the  station.  He  booked  me  a ticket  for  a 
train  leaving  in  two  hours  and  asked  10  rubles  for  it. 


29 


The  proximity  of  the  front  was  keenly  felt.  A majority 
of  the  shops  had  not  yet  had  time  to  begin  work.  A great 
number  of  portraits  of  Denikin,  Mai-Mayevsky,  Wrangel, 
Pokrovsky,  Kornilov  and  others  were  displayed  in  the 
show-windows.  Here  were  also  illiterate  poems  ridiculing 
the  Bolsheviks  and  the  Jews.  The  “creations’’  of  the 
Osvag,*  crude  and  devoid  of  humour,  were  lavishly  ex- 
hibited in  the  streets.  The  Red  Army  prisoners,  emaci- 
ated, starving,  clad  in  rags,  were  walking  the  streets  in 
crowds;  they  had  entirely  lost  their  human  appearance 
and  were  begging  for  alms  in  order  to  obtain  a bare  sub- 
sistence. The  Whites,  after  taking  them  prisoners,  took 
their  clothes  and  footwear,  and  then  let  them  free  to  go 
and  do  wliat  they  liked.  The  mortality  from  starvation 
and  typhus  among  these  prisoners  was  appalling.  After 
two  days  in  the  streets,  squares,  and  stations  of  Kharkov, 
I moved  on. 

The  train  arrived  at  Belgorod  late  at  night.  I had  no 
clear  plan  for  future  action.  The  station  was  crowded 
with  wounded  officers  and  soldiers  from  Kornilov’s  army, 
and  with  nurses  and  officers  from  the  armoured  train 
which  was  standing  in  the  station. 

I was  trying  to  he  as  inconspicuous  as  possible  and 
Was  afraid  to  speak  to  anybody.  From  fragments  of  talk 
here  and  there  I was  able  to  make  out  that  the  White 
army  was  advancing  without  encountering  any  great 
resistance.  Nobody  except  soldiers  were  allowed  to  go  to 
the  front. 

In  the  morning  I bought  lieutenant’s  shoulder  straps 
in  the  nearest  shop,  and  immediately  attached  them  to 
my  coat.  I had  no  luggage  with  me,  only  a thermos  flask 


* Information  Bureau,  officially  controlling  the  press  and  public 
information;  actually,  an  auxiliary  organ  of  the  secret  service. 


30 


and  a pistol.  All  this  was  fairly  typical  for  an  officer  and 
my  appearance  could  hardly  arouse  any  suspicions.  The 
only  objection  was  my  too  youthful  appearance.  But  after 
the  Crimea  I had  purposely  stopped  shaving,  and  there- 
fore looked  about  20  or  21  years  old.  The  station  master 
told  me  that  a train  with  commissary  cargo  was  leaving 
at  4 o’clock  for  Rzhava.  Beyond  that  station  the  track 
had  been  destroyed  by  the  retreating  Red  armies. 

I jumped  onto  the  footboard  of  one  of  the  carriages 
when  the  train  was  already  moving,  and  thus  continued 
my  journey. 

When  we  approached  a station,  I jumped  down,  walked 
round  it,  and  then  hoarded  when  the  train  was  on  the 
move  again.  Thus  I avoided  all  possible  meetings  and 
conversations.  This  was  absolutely  necessary,  as  the  most 
innocent  question,  for  instance,  to  which  regiment  did 
I belong?  or,  where  was  it  located?  would  he  sufficient 
to  give  me  away  at  once.  It  was  getting  dark  when  the 
train  approached  Rzhava.  The  immediate  proximity  of 
the  front  was  in  the  air.  A cossacks’  detachment  was  near; 
military  baggage  trains  and  sanitary  carts  were  in  evi- 
dence. Soldiers  and  officers  were  scurrying  about  on  the 
platform.  Many  of  them  were  in  Kornilov’s  uniform,  with 
a skull  and  cross-hones  embroidered  on  their  sleeves.  I 
decided  to  make  use  of  the  darkness  to  get  av/ay  as  far 
as  possible  from  the  station.  I spent  one  night  in  a ditch, 
under  a bush. 

A Man  Under  the  Straw 

Early  in  the  morning  I was  aroused  by  the  sun-beams. 
I directed  my  steps  towards  a village  located  several  kilo- 
metres from  the  station.  The  distant  roar  of  artillery 
could  be  distinctly  heard.  The  front  was  quite  near. 
Occasionally  a peasant  could  be  seen  working  in  the 


31 


fields.  Before  I had  gone  two  kilometres  a column  of  dense 
dust  was  raised  by  a shell.  The  sound  of  the  explosion 
stimulated  me.  If  the  shells  reach  here,  evidently  the 
Red  artillery  is  not  further  than  7 or  8 kilometres  away. 
The  first  shell  was  followed  by  several  more,  each  one 
of  them  nearer  the  station.  It  was  evident  that  the 
battery  was  aiming  at  the  station  of  Rzhava.  The  peas- 
ants, surrounded  by  the  falling  shells,  took  no  notice  of 
them,  and  continued  their  work.  Not  far  from  the  place 
where  I spent  the  night  I tripped  over  a telephone  wire. 
Looking  round  and  seeing  that  nobody  was  in  sight  I 
rapidly  cut  it  with  my  knife:  At  least  for  a time  the  con- 
nection between  the  troops  would  be  severed. 

I felt  hungry  and  went  to  the  village  to  get  some 
bread.  The  peasants  everywhere  refused  to  sell  any. 
They  probably  suspected  me  of  being  a forager,  investi- 
gating whether  they  had  any  foodstuffs  which  could  be 
requisitioned.  After  a long  search  an  old  woman  took 
pity  on  me  and  sold  me  a loaf  of  bread  and  a cup  of 
milk.  She  was  a long  time  in  selecting  a note  from  the 
“Don”  and  Ukrainian  money  offered  by  me.  She  saw 
this  money  for  the  first  time  — the  Red  troops  retreated 
only  two  days  ago.  I did  not  want  to  remain  in  the 
village,  and  went  further,  examining  the  road  and  an- 
xiously thinking  of  the  possibility  of  meeting  a patrol. 
A peasant  woman  on  a cart  overtook  me  on  the  road. 
To  my  question  where  she  was  going,  she  stopped  the 
horse  and  pointed  to  a village  to  the  right: 

“To  Kolbasovka.” 

“But  am’t  the  Bolsheviks  there?” 

“The  Bolsheviks  are  in  Kolbasovka,  but  there  are 
none  in  Dvoyeluchnaya.  The  villages  merge  into  each 
other.” 


32 


She  told  me  that  the  fields  of  her  neighbours  were 
now  occupied  by  the  Whites,  while  the  fields  of  the 
Dvoyeluchnaya  peasants  were  occupied  by  the  Reds. 
Neither  the  Whites  nor  the  Reds  interfered  with  the  har- 
vesting work  of  the  peasants.  Thus,  the  villages  are  in 
permanent  communication.  A plan  quickly  matured 
in  my  head. 

“I  shall  go  with  you,  hiding  under  the  straw.  I shall 
go  and  make  investigations  in  Kolbasovka.  And  to- 
morrow you  can  take  me  back.” 

She  hesitated: 

“And  what  if  the  Bolsheviks  kill  you?  My  life  won’t 
be  worth  a kopek:  they  will  say  I gave  you  away.” 

I did  not  listen  to  her,  but  climbed  into  the  cart  and 
covered  myself  with  straw.  “Well,  if  I am  found,  I’ll 
hang  on  the  first  birch!”  While  riding,  I instructed  the 
woman  not  to  stop  in  Dvoyeluchnaya,  but  that  as  soon 
as  she  arrived  in  Kolbasovka  she  should  immediately 
ride  into  a garden  or  a yard,  see  if  anybody  was  around 
and  then  tell  me  if  everything  was  all  right.  Should 
we  meet  any  detachment,  she  was  not  to  mention  that 
an  officer  was  hiding  in  the  straw.  We  were  riding  for 
an  hour  and  a half.  Suddenly  through  the  thick  straw 
I heard  the  tramp  of  hoofs  and  the  talk  of  cossacks.  It 
proved  that  a detachment  was  indeed  riding  alongside 
the  cart  for  some  time,  but  later  turned  into  a side  road. 
We  soon  stopped.  I heard  the  groaning  of  a gate  and 
understood  that  we  were  at  the  end  of  our  journey.  Then 
I heard: 

“Get  out ! Nobody’s  around !” 

Afraid  to  believe  that  at  last  I was  back  again  in 
Soviet  territory,  looking  around  me,  I got  out  of  the 
cart.  I could  hear  my  heart  beating. 

“Where  are  the  headquarters?” 


33 


“In  the  priest’s  house,”  said  the  peasant  woman. 
Astounded,  she  watched  me  running  in  the  direction  she 
indicated. 

I had  hardly  gone  20  steps  when  I was  stopped  by 
a shrill  exclamation: 

“Stop!” 

Several  Reds  with  their  rifles  atilt,  appeared  in  front 
of  me.  My  feelings  at  this  moment  are  difficult  to 
imagine;  I was  borne  as  if  on  wings  to  my  headquarters, 
to  the  Red  headquarters.  I was  leaving  my  troubles  be- 
hind; so  many  times  I had  been  within  an  ace  of  death, 
and  now,  just  at  the  very  moment  when  everything  was 
already  over  I was  stopped  by  a Soviet  bayonet!  I was 
ready  to  embrace  the  very  soldier  who  was  fiercely 
glaring  at  me.  Only  then  did  I understand  that  the 
Reds  were  confused  by  imy  officer’s  appearance;  the 
shoulder-straps,  the  revolver  and  the  thermos,  which  they 
probably  took  for  a hand  grenade.  J tore  off  the  shoulder- 
straps,  and  asked  to  be  taken  to  the  Commissar. 

What  a stupid  finale  it  would  have  been,  if  in  the 
circumstances  the  Reds  had  emptied  their  rifles  into 
me,  I thought. 

The  Commissar  heard  my  story,  and  after  some  con- 
sideration, said: 

“I  am  willing  to  believe  you,  comrade,  but  I am  com- 
pelled to  send  you  to  the  headquarters  of  the  brigade.” 

There  the  same  thing  happened  again.  I was  “will- 
ingly believed”  and  sent  with  a convoy  to  the  head- 
quarters of  the  division.  Only  there  the  Commissar  of 
the  ninth  division  set  me  free,  provided  me  with  a rail- 
way pass  and  food,  and  sent  me  in  an  armoured  train 
which  was  leaving  for  Kursk  for  repairs.  Several  days 
later  I was  telling  my  friends  in  Moscow  of  all  my  ad- 
ventures on  the  journey  which  began  in  Poti  on  the 


34 


ninth  of  May  and  ended  on  the  sixteenth  of  September 
in  Moscow. 

A Very  Brief  Epilogue 

Some  years  later,  when  the  necessity  for  crossing  the 
front  in  order  to  reach  Moscow  from  the  Crimea  no 
longer  existed,  and  the  entire  “united  and  undivided” 
was  concentrated  in  the  slums  of  Constantinople;  when 
the  red  banner  of  the  victorious  Proletariat  was  flutter- 
ing over  the  remotest  parts  of  one-sixth  of  the  globe,  I 
found  out  that  our  Crimean  organisations  had  been 
destroyed  soon  after  I left  Evpatoria,  All  the  Evpato- 
rian  comrades  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  secret  service 
department.  Alexander  and  a number  of  comrades  were 
shot;  Alesha,  Sonia  and  others  spent  a long  time  in 
prison.  Our  little  revolutionary  Andriushka,  imprisoned 
together  with  his  mother,  could  not  endure  the  difficult 
prison  regime,  fell  ill  and  died  .... 

All  this  happened  in  the  year  one  thousand  nine 
hundred  and  nineteen. 


35 


' 


> 


/ 


u 

i 

o»<=> 

h 

e* 

p 


N 


N 


^aiijil|B|iiM|jrtii|iij||B iBil^B|| |BBB| BaMM 


RUSSIA 

FREE! 


TEN  SPEECHES  DELIVERED  AT  THE  ROYAL 
ALBERT  HALL  LONDON  ON 
31  MARCH  1917 
AUTHORISED  REPORT 


1 


George  Lansbury 
H.  W.  Nevinson 
Robert  Smillie 
Robert  Williams 
Israel  Zangwill 


SPEAKERS 

Maude  Royden 
Jos.  Wedgwood,  M.P. 
Albert  Bellamy 
Arthur  Lynch,  M.P. 
W.  C.  Anderson,  M.P. 


With  a Postscript  by 

H.  N.  BRAILSFORD 


1917. 

LONDON 

THE  HERALD  OFFICE 
21  TUDOR  STREET 
FLEET  STREET 
E.C 


PRICE 


THREEPENCE 


RUSSIA  FREE 

THE  AUTHORISED  REPORT 
OF  SPEECHES  MADE  ON  31 
MARCH  1917  AT  THE  ROYAL 
ALBERT  HALL  LONDON  BY 
GEORGE  LANSBURY  - H.W 
NEVINSON  ' ISRAEL  ZANG' 
WILL  - ROBERT  WILLIAMS 
ROBERT  SMILLIE  ' MAUDE 
ROYDEN  < JOS.  WEDGWOOD 
M.P  ' ALBERT  BELLAMY 
ARTHUR  LYNCH  M.P  - W.C 
ANDERSON  M.P 'TO  WHICH 
IS  APPENDED  A POSTSCRIPT 
BY  H.  N.  BRAILSFORD 


T MAY  BE  we  shall  rise  the  last 
as  Frenchmen  rose  the  first; 

Our  wrath  come  after  Russia’s  wrath,  and 
our  wrath  be  the  worst.” 

g.  K.  CHESTERTON 


FOREWORD 


TO  congratulate  the  Russian  people  on  their  free- 
dom, and  to  demand  a similar  freedom  for  the  people 
of  this  country,  there  was  held  on  March  3 1st  1917 
at  Albert  Hall  one  of  the  most  important  meet- 
ings of  modern  times.  The  speakers  represented 
all  that  is  most  advanced  in  the  Trade  Union, 
Labour,  Socialist  and  Radical  movements.  The 
hall  was  packed  out,  and  five  thousand  people 
were  turned  disappointed  from  the  doors.  The 
whole  tone  of  the  meeting  was  overwhelmingly  pacifist  and  inter- 
nationalist. Though,  of  course,  there  was  some  difference  of  opinion  on 
such  matters  among  the  speakers  and  among  the  many  distinguished 
men  and  women  who  sat  on  the  platform  or  sent  messages  of  sympathy 
and  encouragement,  it  was  noticeable  that  the  more  uncompromising 
the  sentiments  of  the  speakers,  the  greater  was  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
vast  audience.  Indeed,  it  was  as  an  expression  of  popular  feeling,  as 
the  utterance  of  a truly  democratic  voice,  that  the  meeting  had  its 
greatest  significance.  No  words  can  describe,  and  no  report  of  the 
speeches  can  hope  to  convey,  the  passion  which  inspired  the  meeting 
— its  singleness  of  purpose,  its  resentment  of  oppression,  its  desire  for 
the  coming  of  a new  day.  It  was  felt  by  everyone  present  that  here 
was  the  beginning — a revolution  in  thought,  a revolution  in  way 
of  life.  Held  to  welcome  the  Russian  Revolution,  the  meeting  may 
yet  prove  to  have  inaugurated  a new  era  in  Great  Britain.  In  spite  of 
the  dishonest  secrecy  and  suppression  practised  by  the  corrupt  Press 
(the  “Sunday  Times”  reported  that  “Mr.  Robert  Smillie  denounced 
J the  Conscientious  Objectors  ”),  the  message  of  such  a meeting  must 
l travel  far  and  wide,  and  already  great  provincial  and  local  gatherings 
■>  on  the  same  model  have  been  held.  Meanwhile,  those  responsible  for 
rf  the  Albert  Hall  Meeting  have  felt  that  it  should  be  commemorated 
by  the  publication  of  the  speeches  in  permanent  form.  A long  report 
± has  already  appeared  in  the  “Herald,”  but  it  is  felt  that  the  occasion 
calls  for  a special  publication.  In  what  follows,  though  space  cannot 
be  found  for  a literally  verbatim  report,  the  actual  words  of  the 
speakers  are  nowhere  departed  from,  and  the  report  is  an  authorised 
one.  The  resolution,  which  was  passed  unanimously  amid  scenes  of 
the  greatest  enthusiasm,  ran : 

J This  Meeting  sends  joyful  congratulations  to  the  Democrats  of Russia^ 

3. and  calls  upon  the  Governments  of  Great  Britain  and  of  eatery  country , 
neutral  and  belligerent  alike , to  follow  the  Russian  example  by  establish- 
ing Industrial  Freedom , Freedom  of  Speech  and  the  Press , the  Abolition 
- of  Social^  Religious , and  National  inequalities , an  immediate  Amnesty 
for  Political  and  Religious  offence  j,  and  Universal  Suffrage. 


3 


'THE  RUSSIAN  CHARTER 
OF  FREEDOM 

INDUSTRIAL  FREEDOM  - FRED 
DOM  OF  SPEECH  AND  OF  THE 
PRESS  ' THE  ABOLITION  OF 
SOCIAL  RELIGIOUS  AND 
NATIONAL  INEQUALITIES 
AMNESTY  FOR  POLITICAL  AND 
RELIGIOUS  OFFENCES  'UNI- 
VERSAL SUFFRAGE 

The  Russian  Provisional  Government , re- 
sponsible for  this  Charter , has  stated  “ that 
it  has  no  intention  of  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  existence  of  war 
conditions  to  delay  the 
realisation 

of  the  above-mentioned  measures  of  reform 


4 


GEORGE  LANSBURY 

ALL  SORTS  AND  CONDITIONS  OF  MEN  AND  WOMEN  ARE  IN  THIS 
HALL  TO-NIGHT.  I BELIEVE  THAT  IT  IS  THE  MOST  REPRESENTATIVE 
INTERNATIONAL  MEETING  THAT  HAS  BEEN  HELD  SINCE  THE  INTER- 
national  Socialist  Congress  in  this  country.  W e meet  here  to  celebrate 
one  of  the  great  historical  events  in  the  history  of  the  world.  I was 
going  to  say  the  greatest  historical  event,  because  those  of  us  who 
have  been  in  the  Labour  and  Socialist  movement  have  at  times 
imagined  that  if  there  was  one  country  in  the  world  that  would 
always  be  backward  it  was  Russia.  Yet  here,  in  the  midst  of  a 
tremendous  war,  a Russian  revolution  which  thousands  of  men 
and  women  in  the  last  fifty  or  sixty  years  have  given  their  lives 
to  make  has  been  brought  to  a successful  issue.  (Applause.)  It  is 
a great  and  glorious  thought  that  you  gather  up  this  work,  that 
you  gather  up  all  the  work  of  the  men  and  women  and  the 
boys  and  girls  of  Russia  who  have  given  all  they  had  to  give  for 
Russian  liberty.  This  triumph  has  come,  friends,  because  for  the 
first  time  that  I know  of  in  history — at  least,  in  modern  history — 
soldiers,  working-class  soldiers,  have  refused  to  fire  on  the  workers. 
(Loud  and  continued  cheers.)  To  me,  comrades,  that  is  the  greatest 
lesson  of  all.  On  Bloody  Sunday  they  had  not  learnt  that  lesson  ; 
they  have  learnt  it  now,  and  it  is  for  us  to  learn  it  now— (great  ap- 
plause)— because  we  can  understand  that  when  the  working  classes 
of  all  nations  refuse  to  shoot  down  the  working  classes  of  other 
countries,  Governments  won’t  be  able  to  make  wars  any  more. 
(Loud  cheers.)  This  war  would  end  to-morrow  if  the  troops  on 
all  sides  marched  out  into  No  Man’s  Land  and  refused  to  fight  any 
longer.  (Cheers.) 

Mr.  Lloyd  George  is  head  of  a great  Government.  (Hisses.)  Com- 
rades, don’t  let  us  hoot  anyone  here!  We  may  disagree  about  lots  of 
things,  but  we  are  all  wanting  to  celebrate  a giant  proletarian  revolt  • 
we  don’t  want  to  bother  our  heads  about  hooting  anyone.  And 
I believe  this — that  if  he  and  his  colleagues  would  whole-heartedly 
back  the  programme  sent  out  by  the  Revolutionary  Labour  Party 
of  Russia,  we  could  get  an  International  that  would  be  a bulwark 
for  the  future  freedom  of  the  whole  of  the  human  race.  Now 
we  English  people  have  to  clear  our  own  doorstep.  I stood  here 
just  about  three  years  ago:  almost  where  Williams  is  sitting  sat 
James  Connolly.  (Cheers.)  He  and  his  murdered  colleagues  of  a year 
ago  were  just  too  soon,  that  is  all;  and,  friends,  we  British  people 
have  got  to  clear  that  Irish  question  up,  because  until  we  do  it  is  not 
for  us  to  celebrate  other  people’s  triumphs  over  reaction.  Further, 

5 


there  are  to-night  hundreds  of  young  Englishmen  in  gaol  for  their 
beliefs;  there  are  to-night  thousands  of  young  men  in  India  in  gaol. 
The  people  of  India,  the  people  of  Ireland,  the  people  of  Ceylon,  ask 
that  we  who  claim  to  be  the  leaders  of  democracy  in  the  world  shall 
put  our  principles  into  practice  at  home.  Now  most  of  us  here,  every 
man  and  every  woman  who  is  gathered  in  this  hall,  have  some  sort 
of  feeling  and  love  and  care  for  other  men  and  other  women,  and  I 
think  the  one  great  outstanding  thing  to  realise  in  regard  to  Russia 
and  the  working-class  movement  is  just  this,  that  if  this  great  human 
race  is  to  work  out  its  salvation,  it  is  by  men  and  women  like  you 
and  me  doing  it.  You  have  to  get  rid  of  the  idea  that  someone  else 
can  emancipate  you,  someone  else  can  save  you.  W e here  in  Britain — 
what  is  the  thing  that  keeps  us  backward  ? It  is  our  jealousies,  our  fears, 
and  anxiety  to  find  out  where  we  disagree  instead  of  where  we  agree. 
I want  to  see  this  Russian  movement  impelling  you  and  me  to  catch 
their  unity,  their  enthusiasm,  and  be  ready  to  suffer,  and  if  needs  be 
to  die,  for  our  faith.  Men  and  women,  the  hardest  thing  is  to  live 
for  our  faith,  and  that  is  what  you  and  I have  got  to  do.  Do  not  go 
home  without  realising  that  in  British  prisons,  for  religious,  for  poli- 
tical offences,  some  of  the  best  of  the  young  men  of  this  country  are 
lying.  Do  not  forget  that  in  Russia  they  have  thrown  open  the 
prisons.  (Cheers.)  Do  not  forget  that  in  Russia  they  have  put  down 
police  spies. 

To  the  young  men — if  there  are  any  here;  to  the  young  women — 
there  are  many  here — I want  to  say  this : you  are  celebrating  to-night 
a tremendous  thing.  It  is  fine  to  cheer  these  other  people,  fine  to  feel 
you  can  sing  about  them,  talk  about  them ; a finer  thing  still  is  to  follow 
their  example.  (Loud  and  prolonged  cheers.)  It  is  men  and  women 
of  goodwill,  irrespective  of  race,  irrespective  of  class  or  religion  or 
anything  else,  who  will  redeem  the  world.  You  men  and  women 
gathered  here  in  such  magnificent  numbers,  go  out  with  the  words 
of  the  song  you  have  sung  ringing  in  your  ears,  and  remember  always 
the  duty  laid  upon  each  one  of  you,  “Quit  you  like  men,  be  strong/’ 

H.  W.  NEVINSON 

Men  and  women,  I have  been  put  up  to  speak  first  after  our 
chairman  because  I happen  to  be  one  of  the  few  Englishmen  who  were 
present  during  those  glorious  and  terrible  scenes  of  the  Russian  revolu- 
tion in  St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow  twelve  years  ago ; and  in  con- 
sequence I have  had  the  privilege  granted  me  of  speaking  to  a theme 
which  requires  no  eloquence  and  for  which  the  highest  eloquence 
would  be  inadequate — for  I am  to  speak  to  the  honour  and  memory 
of  those  men  and  women,  boys  and  girls,  who  have  suffered  and  died 
for  the  cause  of  Russian  freedom.  It  is  a long  and  glorious  roll  of 
honour,  and  from  that  roll  of  honour  I would  not  exclude  any  party 
or  denomination  or  race  in  Russia  which  has  contributed  to  the 
struggle.  I would  include  the  people  who  were  called  Nihilists,  and 

6 


the  Social  Democrats  of  Russia,  and  the  Social  Revolutionaries  of 
Russia,  and  the  victims  who  fell  on  Bloody  Sunday,  January,  1905, 
and  those  who  died,  as  I saw  them  die,  upon  the  barricades  in 
Moscow,  and  those  who  died  in  that  terrible  repression  of  the  revolu- 
tion  under  the  hang-rope  ^ that  they  called  Stoly pin’s  necktie,  and 
those  who  were  betrayed  by  provocative  agents  more  infamous  in 
ignominy  even  than  the  man  Gordon,  whom  our  Government  has 
not  disdained  to  use;  and  I would  also  include  those  who  have 
striven  within  the  last  ten  years  for  the  maintenance  of  the  Duma, 
be  they  Social  Democrats  or  Constitutional  Democrats.  I will  net 
here  give  you  a long  list  of  names,  but  I think  we  must  mention  the 
names  of  a few  women,  such  as  Sophie  Perovsky,  Vera  Figner,  Vera 
Zassulitch,  Marie  Spiridonova,  and  Katherine  Breshkovsky,  the  aged 
grandmother,  as  she  is  called,  of  the  Revolution,  who  now,  to  our 
great  joy,  is  returning  from  Siberia  to  the  country  she  has  served. 
And  here  in  England  we  are  especially  bound  to  mention  the  names 
of  glorious  Russian  exiles,  such  as  Stepniak,  Felix  Volkhovsky, 
Nicholas  Tchaikovsky,  and  that  great  friend  of  us  all,  and  of  all  men 
of  good  will,  Peter  Kropotkin.  Those  are  great  names;  but  what  shall 
I say  of  that  great  cloud  of  witnesses,  unnamed,  unknown,  unre- 
membered, the  men  and  women,  the  boys  and  girls,  who  spent  years 
of  hideous  monotony  shut  up  in  such  fortresses  as  that  of  St.  Peter 
and  Paul,  where  on  one  side  you  can  see  the  marble  domes  of  the 
Tsar’s  Dynasty  and  on  the  other  the  glorious  walls  sanctified  by  the 
blood  and  tears  of  the  martyrs  of  freedom?  What  shall  I say  of  those 
men  and  women  who  were  forced  to  march  from  stage  to  stage  and 
from  one  dreary  barrack  to  another  on  their  way  to  the  inhospitable 
and  cold  deserts  into  which  they  sank  as  into  the  oblivion  of  the 
tomb;  or  those  I have  seen  hunted  up  and  down  the  streets  of  St. 
Petersburg  and  Moscow  by  mounted  Cossacks  with  heavy  loaded 
whips  of  leather  and  lead;  or  those  who  were  hunted  to  death  by 
the  secret  police,  who  were  betrayed  by  provocative  agents,  who 
were  handed  over  to  the  most  terrible  tortures  that  fiendish  ingenuity 
can  invent,  or  the  human  frame  can  endure,  in  the  torture  chambers 
of  Riga  and  Warsaw?  It  is  less  than  ten  years  ago  that  men  and 
women,  2,100  of  them,  were  hanged  within  three  years — an  average 
of  about  two  a day — and  that  the  Russian  prisons  were  crowded  with 
181,000  men  and  women,  chiefly  political  prisoners,  and  that  84,000 
were  sent  to  Siberia.  It  is  for  us  that  those  men  and  women  suffered : 
in  tears  and  sorrow  they  planted  the  seed^ of  which  we  now  reap  the 
harvestin  joy.  With  their  stripes  we  are  healed.  In  1885  the  American 
writer,  George  Kennan,  in  passing  through  Siberia,  met  Katherine 
Breshkovsky,  then  a young  woman  of  thirty  or  thirty-five,  and  as 
they  parted  she  said,  14  We  may  die  in  prison  and  exile,  our  children 
may  die  in  prison  and  exile,  our  children’s  children  may  die  in  prison 
and  exile,  but  something  must  come  of  it  in  the  end.”  Something  has 
come  of  it  now,  and  I wish  we  could  penetrate  the  darkness  into 
which  those  noble  men  and  women  have  passed,  so  that  we  could 

7 


tell  them  that  not  all  in  vain  has  been  their  heroic  struggle.  Men  and 
women,  there  is  a custom  in  Russia,  at  the  beginning  of  meetings  like 
this,  which,  I think,  we  might  imitate  here  to-night.  It  is  the  custom, 
in  memory  of  those  who  have  suffered  and  died  for  the  Revolution, 
for  all  the  audience  to  rise  and  stand  silent  for  a few  seconds,  to  show 
that  they  do  not  forget  what  has  been  done  for  the  cause.  I call 
upon  the  audience  to  rise  now  in  memory  of  those  who  have  died 
and  suffered  for  the  Russian  Revolution,  to  show  that  we  do  not 
forget  what  they  have  done  for  us  all. 

At  these  words  the  audience  of  ten  thousand  rose  as  one  and  stood 
silent  for  some  seconds , and  then  hro\e  into  cheers. 

ROBERT  SMILLIE 

I am  asked  to  speak  to  one  particular  phase  of  the  resolution.  It  is 
refreshing  at  this  time  of  day  to  be  in  a position  to  speak  freely  of 
revolution— (cheers)— in  Russia!  (Laughter  and  cheers.)  A few 
weeks  ago  I ventured  to  express  my  regret  that  our  people  were  fight- 
ing side  by  side  with  the  Russian  Army  for  the  alleged  freedom  of 
small  nations,  while  its  men  and  women  were  being  sent  to  prison 
for  political  offences.  I was  told  that  I had  brought  myself  danger- 
ously near  a breach  of  the  Defence  of  the  Realm — (laughter) — and 
now  the  Government  and  the  politicians  by  congratulating  Russia  are 
proving  that  I was  right  then.  I am  delighted  to  be  here  to-night  to 
take  part  in  this  monster  meeting  to  send  our  congratulations  to  our 
brothers  and  sisters  in  Russia.  I sincerely  hope  that  we  are  sending 
those  congratulations  to  a free  nation.  I sincerely  hope  that  the 
Revolution  is  a revolution  of  the  democracy,  and  that  a free  people 
has  been  established  in  that  great  and  magnificent  country.  If  that 
is  so  it  will  do  more  to  bring  about  and  strengthen  a real  international 
movement  of  the  world  than  anything  else  I know  of.  While  I am 
not  sure  whether  this  meeting  is  sending  a message  to  a free  nation, 
I am  sure  that  we  are  not  a free  nation  ourselves ; and  it  is  almost  a 
mockery  for  men  and  women  who  are  not  themselves  free,  men  and 
women,  large  numbers  of  whom  are  still  denied  the  right  to  have 
views  in  the  making  of  the  laws  of  their  counry,  to  send  congratu- 
lations to  Russia.  During  the  past  eighteen  months  we  have  had  a 
class  of  people  in  our  own  country  who  have  been  called  cowards 
by  certain  sections  of  the  people  and  of  the  Press,  men  who  are  con- 
scientious objectors — (loud  and  prolonged  cheers) — men  who  refuse 
at  the  bidding  of  a Government  to  shoot  down  their  fellow-men. 
(Cheers.)  Many  of  those  people  have  been  tortured  in  this  country. 
We  and  our  Press  have  often  condemned  torture  in  Russia,  but  we 
have  no  right  to  condemn  torture  and  persecution  in  Russia  if  we 
allow  it  at  home;  and  I think  no  truthful  person  will  say  that  the 
young  men  who  have  had  the  courage  to  face  the  Government  and 
to  face  the  military  authorities  of  this  country,  to  go  to  prison,  to  be 
tortured,  were  cowards.  We  have  had  magnificent  courage  in  France 

8 


and  Flanders  and  on  all  the  fronts,  courage  shown  by  men  of  all 
nationalities;  we  have  had  splendid  heroism— would  to  Heaven  it 
had  been  in  a better  cause  than  killing  each  other!  (Cheers.)  We 
have  had  splendid  heroism  amongst  all  ranks  of  our  own  and  the 
other  armies,  deeds  of  great  valour;  but  it  does  not  require  the  same 
courage  to  go  into  the  trenches  as  it  does  to  face  the  opprobrium  and 
the  condemnation  that  our  conscientious  objectors  have  been  face 
to  face  with.  I have  some  right  to  speak.  I have  lads  in  the  Army, 
and  I have  lads  who  are  not  and  will  not  be  in  the  Army.  I give  as 
much  credit  to  those  who  refuse  as  to  those  who  have  joined.  There 
has  been  suffering,  unjust  suffering,  in  our  own  country,  and  it  is 
not  confined  even  to  the  thousands  of  conscientious  objectors  who 
have  been  court-martialled : we  too  have  “political  offenders.”  We 
have  no  right  to  call  ourselves  a free  nation  so  long  as  this  lasts.  The 
time  has  come  when  we  should  follow  the  glorious  example  of  Russia 
and  set  those  men  free.  The  Russian  Revolution  has  prevented,  I 
hope,  one  of  the  most  brutal  actions  which  could  have  been  done  by 
our  own  Government,  and  that  was  the  sending  back  to  Russia  of 
men  who  came  here  as  exiles.  (Cries  of  “Shame!”)  If  Russia  is  free 
send  them  back  now  if  you  like ! I hold  in  my  hand  a regulation  of 
a West  Indian  island,  in  which  it  is  laid  down  that  any  person  join- 
ing a Trade  or  Labour  Union  or  having  any  communication  with  a 
Trade  or  Labour  Union  is  to  be  fined  £50 — (“Shame!”) — or  six 
months’  imprisonment,  in  the  option  of  the  magistrate.  They  can  be 
fined  £6  if  they  talk  about  a Trade  Union,  write  about  a Trade 
Union,  collect  for  a Trade  Union.  The  question  has  been  asked  in 
the  British  House  of  Commons,  Is  it  true?  Mr.  Long  has  replied  that 
it  is  true— (“Shame!”) — that  it  is  suspected  that  a pro-German  is 
organising  the  people  there.  The  Government  have  suspected  a lot 
recently ! Mr.  Long  said  that  this  has  the  consent  of  our  Government, 
though  it  has  not  yet  been  enforced.  We  cannot  have  slavery  in  any 
part  of  the  British  Dominions  and  be  ourselves  free.  Men  and  women, 
the  business  of  these  people  in  the  West  Indian  island  is  our  busi- 
ness. I want  you  to  make  this  part  of  the  resolution  the  strongest  of 
all,  that  the  Government  must  release  every  person  suffering  in  prison 
for  a political  offence — (cheers) — and  when  Labour  Ministers  tell 
you  that  you  must  suffer  many  things  just  now  because  we  are  at 
war,  and  when  you  are  told  that  the  Government  will  not  do  what 
you  are  asking  here,  I tell  you  the  Government  must  do  what  the 
people  of  this  country  desire — (cheers)— and  it  will  lie  with  the 
people  of  great  Britain  to  prove  to  the  people  of  Russia  whether 
we  are  worthy  of  sending  such  a message  as  is  contained  in  this 
resolution.  (Cheers.) 

ROBERT  WILLIAMS 

We  send  our  thanks,  our  praise  and  appreciationtomen  and  women 
of  all  classes  in  Russia  who  have  contributed  to  the  cause  of  the 
glorious  Revolution.  But  as  a member  of  the  working  class  it  comes 

9 


to  me  as  a great  pleasure  to  congratulate  the  members  of  the  working 
class  in  Russia  who  were  the  corner-stone  of  the  Revolution.  Those 
of  us  who  are  connected  with  the  industrial  movement  in  this  country 
are  going  to  deal  to-night  with  the  rights  of  industrial  freedom  in  the 
light  of  the  Russian  Revolution.  During  the  prosecution  of  the  war 
we  have  seen  the  rights  of  organised  Labour  hampered,  ignored  and 
thwarted.  Defence  of  the  Realm  Regulations  have  been  devised,  a 
Munitions  Act  has  been  perpetrated,  Orders  in  Council  have  been 
passed,  and  other  measures  have  been  created  to  prevent  the  working 
class  from  taking  advantage  of  their  essential  rights  of  organisation  and 
combination.  In  my  judgment  the  Defence  of  the  Realm  Regulations 
are  calculated  more  to  defend  the  rights  and  privileges  of  the  profiteer- 
ing classes  than  the  rights  of  the  sovereign  realm.  (Loud  applause.) 
We  have  seen  the  rivets,  the  chains  and  the  gyves  being  fastened 
round  the  limbs  of  the  working  people,  and  when  we  have  demanded 
restrictions  upon  the  desires  of  the  profit-mongering  and  profiteering 
class  we  have  been  told  by  Ministers  and  politicians,  by  those  who 
represent  the  inner  Cabinet  of  the  nation,  that  you  cannot  interfere 
with  the  inexorable  laws  of  supply  and  demand  ! At  a time  when 
Labour  and  Labour's  powerful  organisation  is  stultified,  we  see  the 
agriculturists  refusing  to  sow  and  reap  unless  they  can  get  their  own 
price  for  a commodity,  and  we  see  the  profiteers  heaping  up  moun- 
tains of  profits,  which  they  are  putting  in  the  War  Loan  to  make 
us  and  those  who  come  after  us  their  slaves  and  dependents.  {Cheers.) 
We  are  told  that  there  must  be  a further  dilution  of  labour.  I want 
seriously  to  suggest  that  the  time  is  coming  when  we  must  demand 
a dilution  of  capital — (cheers) — especially  that  of  shipowners,  mine- 
owners,  war  contractors,  financiers,  and  the  others  who  are  investing 
their  ill-gotten  war  profits  in  the  War  Loan. 

For  the  debts  of  the  parents  will  be  debited  to  the  children  even  unto 
the  third  and  fourth  generation.  We  have  been  told — the  working 
people  have  been  told — in  the  words  of  the  recruiting  posters,  “It  is 
your  flag.  Work  for  it ! Fight  for  it ! ” I say  to  the  profiteering  classes, 
“ The  land  and  the  industrial  capital  is  yours.  Pay  for  the  defence  of 
it !”  (Cheers).  When  I suggest  that  capital  must  be  diluted  I mean 
this,  that  we  must  reduce  the  interest  upon  the  War  Loan  from 
5 per  cent,  to  4 per  cent.,  to  3 per  cent.,  and  even  to  1 per  cent.,  and 
then  we  must  dilute  that  too.  We  are  going  to  assert  our  inalienable 
rights  to  use  our  Trade  Union  organisation,  and  there  are  some  of 
us,  two  of  my  friends  on  my  right  and  left,  who  are  prepared  to 
“damn  the  consequences.”  (Cheers.)  A few  weeks  ago  my  friends 
Smillie  and  Bellamy,  with  three  of  our  colleagues  and  myself,  waited 
upon  the  Prime  Minister  and  the  Inner  Cabinet  of  five  at  Downing 
Street;  and  we  said,  “We  have  made  up  our  minds  irrevocably  that 
we  will  not  countenance  the  introduction  of  indentured  coloured 
labour  into  this  country.”  Nor  will  we.  Further  than  that,  my 
friends,  a sinister  scheme  is  afoot  to  introduce  indentured  British 
white  labour,  through  the  means  of  compulsory  industrial  service. 

10 


Now  we  will  use  the  great  Triple  Alliance  of  Railway  Workers, 
Miners,  and  Transport  Workers — at  least  we  will  advise  the  use  of 
that  organisation— -as  resolutely  against  indentured  white  labour  as 
against  indentured  coloured  labour.  I would  like  to  utter  some 
words  of  warning,  if  they  can  reach  as  far,  to  Messrs.  Neville 
Chamberlain  and  Arthur  Henderson.  We  will  not  tolerate  indus- 
trial servitude.  (Cheers.) 

We  have  recently  seen  that  British  Labour  is  to  be  represented  in 
Russia  by  two  nominees  of  the  majority  of  the  Labour  Party  or  of 
the  Government.  We  say  these  nominees  are  not  representative  of 
the  British  Working-Class  Movement.  I suggest  that  if  they  go  we 
should  ask  for  passports  for  representatives  of  our  movement,  men 
who  are  real  internationalists,  like  Smillie,  Lansbury,  and  Anderson. 
(Loud  cheers). 

Those  of  us  who  are  Internationalists  find  our  minds  and  souls 
exultant  at  the  glorious  message  which  has  come  through  from  the 
Russian  Workmen  and  Soldiers1  Delegates — in  my  judgment  it  is  the 
tocsin  of  revolt  for  every  country  in  Europe.  I quote : 

THE  RUSSIAN  MANIFESTO 

Brothers  of  the  Proletariat , — Russia  will  steadfastly  defend  her 
own  liberty  from  all  reactionary  onslaughts , within  and  without.  The 
time  has  come  to  begin  a decisive  struggle  against  the  conquest  aspira- 
tions of  the  Governments  of  all  countries.  The  time  has  come  for  the 
peoples  to  take  into  their  hands  the  decision  of  the  questions  of  war 
and  peace.  Conscious  of  its  revolutionary  strength 5 Russian  democracy 
proclaims  that  it  will  combat  in  every  way  the  ruling  classes  policy 
of  conquest,  and  it  calls  on  the  peoples  of  Europe  to  take  common 
decisive  action  in  the  interest  of  peace.  Workers  of  all  countries , in 
extending  to  you  a fraternal  hand  over  mountains  of  brothers1  corpses , 
across  rivers  of  innocent  blood  and  tears , and  through  the  smoking 
ruins  of  towns  and  villages  and  the  destroyed  treasures  of  civilisation) 
we  summon  you  to  a renewal  and  strengthening  of  international  unity. 
Therein  lies  a gage  of  our  victory  and  of  our  complete  freedom. 

Friends,  some  of  us  have  complained  at  the  fatuous  policy  proclaimed 
by  the  majority  of  Social  Democrats  of  Germany,  who  went  gladly 
into  the  war  because  they  thought  that  they  were  contributing 
to  the  destruction  of  Tsardom  beyond  their  Eastern  frontiers.  But 
German  militarism  has  been  calculated  to  sustain  and  support  the 
institution  of  Tsardom  in  Russia.  It  is  now  clear  that  it  is  the 
Russians  themselves  who  are  responsible  for  bringing  about  their 
own  measure  of  freedom.  Friends,  I want  you  to  realise  the  analogy. 
Some  of  us  are  thinking  we  may  by  force  of  arms  destroy  Prussian 
militarism.  Prussian  militarism  can  only  be  destroyed  by  Germans 
in  Germany.  (Cheers.)  They  strike  best  for  freedom  who  strike  the 

11 


hardest  blows  in  their  own  country.  In  so  far  as  we  can  emulate 
the  splendid  example  of  Russia,  so  shall  we  be  in  Britain  and  Germany 
and  throughout  Europe,  bringing  nearer  a lasting  and  honourable 
peace.  (Cheers.) 

ISRAEL  ZANGWILL 

As  a representative  of  the  race  which  has  suffered  more  than  any 
other  from  the  old  Russia,  I am  very  happy  on  this  great  occasion  to 
add  my  word  of  welcome  to  the  new  Russia.  (Cheers.)  But  I must  con- 
fess myself  surprised  at  the  unabashed  tone  which  reigns  here,  for  I 
gathered  from  a recent  leader  in  the  “Times,”  entitled  “British  Labour 
and  the  Russian  Revolution,”  that  you  were  all  against  Russia  and 
any  truck  with  her.  And  now  that  Russia  has  been  proved  the  friend 
of  liberty,  not  its  enemy,  now  that  the  objection  to  our  Alliance  with 
her  is  seen  to  have  been  unjust,  “ will  the  Labour  pacifists  and  pro- 
Germans,”  asks  the  “Times,”  “have  the  manliness  to  recant?  ” Such  an 
appeal  from  such  a champion  of  liberty,  the  only  begetter  of  the 
Russian  Supplements  and  of  Mr.  Stephen  Graham,  would,  I thought, 
be  irresistible.  (Loud  laughter.)  I expected  to  see  all  of  you  Labour 
leaders — all  of  you,  at  apy  rate,  with  any  spark  of  manliness — stand- 
ing here  at  the  penitent’s  table,  draped  in  white  sheets.  Nay,  editors 
like  Mr.  Lansbury  wrapped  in  their  own  journals.  But  you  seem  to 
think  that  this  demand  of  Lord  Northcliffe’s  is  only  the  brazen  crow- 
ing of  the  weathercock.  (Cheers  and  laughter.)  You  seem  to  imply 
that  it  is  rather  Lord  Northcliffe  who  should  be  standing  here  doing 
penance,  wrapped  in  the  “Times.”  I should  agree  with  you  but  for  one 
small  consideration — the  “T imes”  is  not  a white  sheet.  But  LordNorth- 
cliffe  is  not  the  only  weathercock  that  has  been  crowing.  Nearly  all 
the  great  organs  of  England,  alas ! — dailies,  weeklies,  monthlies — have 
similarly  saluted  the  sunrise,  with  all  the  air  of  Rostand’s  chanticleer 
who  thought  he  had  brought  it  about.  We  democrats  never  de- 
nounced Russia:  we  denounced  only  the  Russian  Government. 
(Cheers.)  We  welcomed  to  our  shores  the  representatives  of  the 
Duma:  it  was  only  the  Tsar  we  never  let  land  here.  We  always 
recognised  that  there  was  a Holy  Russia — it  was  not  the  Russia  of 
church  candles  and  ikons,  but  the  Holy  Russia  of  the  struggle  for 
liberty.  But  our  rulers  and  our  Press  have  been  backing  the  wrong 
Russia.  (Loud  applause.)  There  was  a literary  and  political  conspiracy 
to  beslaver  and  bolster  up  despotism,  superstition,  and  reaction  ; a 
conspiracy  which,  aided,  or  rather  enforced,  by  a brainless  censorship, 
made  an  atmosphere  asphyxiating  to  all  free  thought,  and  turned  this 
war  for  freedom  and  for  oppressed  nationalities  into  an  unreal  night- 
mare. And  what  was  the  result  of  this  audacious  attempt  to  paint 
Russia  rosy  ? Did  it  help  to  win  the  war  ? Quite  the  contrary.  It 
nearly  lost  it.  It  alienated  all  intelligent  neutrals,  disheartened  Rus- 
sia’s best  elements,  embittered  all  her  persecuted  minorities,  whose 
oppressions  were  actually  increased,  not  relaxed,  during  the  war,  and 


it  encouraged  only  the  pro-German  bureaucracy,  which  all  but  suc- 
ceeded in  engineering  a separate  peace.  We  may  well  ask  the  “Times” 
who  are  the  real  pro-Germans,  we  or  Lord  Northcliffe  ? In  pursu- 
ance of  this  nigh  fatal  policy  and  in  deference  to  the  Russian  Embassy, 
a play  of  my  own — a play  to  which  Cabinet  Ministershad  originally 
written  testimonials — was  dragged  from  the  limelight.  For  it  ripped 
up  the  picture  of  Rosy  Russia  painted  by  a thousand  hireling  hands 
— that  picture  of  the  one  really  Christian  country,  where  the  bear 
lay  down  with  the  baby,  where  Grand  Dukes  turned  the  other  cheek 
and  even  the  capitalist  went  about  singing  Christmas  carols.  (Loud 
laughter.)  And  simultaneously  with  this  creation  of  a fairy  Russia, 
Professors  arose  to  declare  that  the  real  Russia,  the  Russia  of  knouts, 
and  gaolers,  and  Siberia,  was  only  an  invention  of  novelists.  The 
pliability  of  Professors  is  one  of  the  saddest  features  of  the  war. 
Even  Professor  Gilbert  Murray  has  found  the  policy  of  Viscount 
Grey  a model  of  detailed  perfection.  And  Professor  J.  W.  Mackail 
wrote  in  his  twopenny  pamphlet,  “ Russia’s  Gift  to  the  World,”  that 
the  Russian  spy  and  the  Russian  conspirator,  as  popularly  conceived, 
are  figures  of  melodrama,  not  actual  life.  “To  novel  writers,”  he 
says,  “ Russia  has  been  a happy  hunting-ground,  where  they  could 
lay  on  their  colours  as  they  chose  and  make  scenes  as  fantastic  as 
those  of  the  Arabian  Nights.”  What  would  this  gentleman  say,  I 
wonder,  to  that  fantastic  Arabian  land  in  which  a drunken  peasant 
monk  with  a harem  could  rule  Emperors  and  Empresses,  sway  the 
fate  of  Armageddon,  and  be  lured  to  his  assassination  at  the  hands  of 
a Grand  Duke  by  a member  of  the  Duma  disguised  as  a chauffeur  ? 
And  our  scoffers  at  the  novelistic  knout — what  would  they  say  to 
the  calculation  endorsed  by  Miliukoff,  that  150  political  prisoners  had 
received  among  them  some  5,625  lashes ; or  to  the  report  vouched 
for  by  Gorki  that  “ batches  of  prisoners  were  flogged  as  they  arrived, 
until  they  fell  fainting  on  the  stone  floor,  and  wakened  to  find  them- 
selves surrounded  by  the  nearly  naked  bodies  of  groaning  men  ;” 
that,  out  of  a batch  of  forty  so  handled,  fourteen  died  ? One  girl, 
according  to  a Russian  newspaper  of  1908,  received  500  lashes.  Dur- 
ing this  very  war  there  have  been  hundreds  of  pogroms  against  the 
loyal  Jewish  population,  millions  of  whom,  moreover,  were  driven 
from  their  homes.  Even  crippled  Jewish  soldiers,  with  the  cross  of 
valour,  were  hounded  from  the  cities  they  had  helped  to  save.  As 
for  the  “ myth  ” of  Siberia,  the  Duma  itself  was  not  immune — wit- 
ness the  five  Social  Democrats  banished  there.  And  the  Scribes  and 
Pharisees  who  backed  up  this  Russia,  and  from  whom  no  whisper  of 
encouragement  came  to  the  struggling  Russian  people,  now  have  the 
brasenness — (cheers)— to  rejoiceattheRevolution.What  in  the  name 
of  the  Prince  of  Lies  are  they  rejoicing  over  ? How  could  the  Para- 
dise they  depicted  be  changed,  except  for  the  worst  ? Do  they  not 
see  that  their  jubilations  over  the  new  Russia  are  a judgment  upon 
themselves,  that  every  cheer  they  raise  is  their  own  condemnation? 
(Loud  applause.)  They  confess  now,  these  Judases  of  journalism,  these 

13 


Parliamentary  parasites  of  success,  that  Russia  was  always  a dead- 
weight in  the  Alliance,  a political  incubus  ; that,  in  fact,  England  was 
ashamed  of  her.  And  this  was  the  real  truth,  and  the  best  Russians 
knew  it,  and  it  distressed  them.  But  what  is  the  position  to-day  ? 
By  the  irony  of  history  just  as  Russia  has  gained  a constitution  we 
have  lost  ours.  (Loud  cheering.)  And  instead  of  our  having  the  right 
to  be  ashamed  of  Russia,  it  is  Russia  that  may  soon  be  ashamed  of 
us.  Evil  communications  corrupt  good  manners.  What  was  worst 
in  Russia  was  wafted  over  here : the  Censorship,  the  passport,  the 
police  documentation,  the  prohibited  zone,  the  “ oblawa,”  or  drive  of 
human  beings,  the  persecution  of  religious  sects— for  what  else  is  the 
conscription  of  Quakers? — the“okhrana 11  or  secret  police,  the  “ agent 
provocateur,’1  the  farcical  trial ; even,  on  a mild  scale,  the  pogrom.  If 
Russia  has  turned  into  England,  England  has  turned  into  Russia.  If 
we  have  no  Grand  Dukes  we  have  Lord  Northcliffe,  and  if  we  have 
no  royal  autocrat  we  have  Lloyd  George,  who  has  ignored  the  House 
of  Commons  and  given  the  Cabinet  the  knock-out  blow.  (Cheers.) 
No  doubt  Lloyd  George  loves  freedom — has  he  not  welcomed  the 
Russian  Revolution  as  a resounding  blow  for  liberty?  But  like  the 
king  who,  when  he  had  dined  well,  thought  his  people  happy,  Lloyd 
George  thinks  because  he  can  do  exactly  as  he  pleases,  therefore  old 
England  was  never  such  a land  of  liberty  as  to-day.  (Loud  laughter  and 
cheers.)  Now,  Mr.  Lloyd  George,  tempered  by  the  constitution,  may 
be  all  very  well,  but  unalloyed  George — (laughter)— is  a national 
danger.  And,  therefore,  we  hope  that  the  first  effect  of  the  Russian 
Revolution  will  be  to  give  us  back  our  Duma.  To  the  new  Russia 
we  look  for  the  redemption  of  the  new  England.  At  the  very  begin- 
ning of  the  war  I ventured— as  one  of  an  ancient  people  of  sorrows, 
experienced  in  the  ways  of  despots— to  warn  my  guileless  fellow- 
citizens,  who  were  making  ducks  and  drakes  of  the  freedom  be- 
queathed to  them  by  their  forefathers,  that  it  is  infinitely  easier  to 
give  up  one’s  liberties  than  to  get  them  back.  The  simple  Englishman, 
unused  to  tyrants,  imagines  that  the  tiger  which  has  tasted  blood  will 
still  pay  regard  to  the  Food  Controller.  (Laughter.)  He  does  not  know 
that  all  who  have  power  abuse  it.  We  have  always  prided  ourselves 
—not  over- wisely— on  the  cautiousness  of  our  Liberalism  ; boasted 
that  our 

Freedom  broadens  slowly  down 

From  precedent  to  precedent. 

Would  at  least  there  were  similar  caution  in  our  reactions  from 
Liberalism!  But,  alas!  our  freedom  tumbles  swiftly  down  from  preci- 
pice to  precipice.  (Cheers  and  laughter.)  Does  anybody  know  what 
law  we  are  living  under  now,  if  there  still  is  any  law  ? I ordered  a 
copy  of  the  Defence  of  the  Realm  Act.  The  bookseller  inquired 
which  volume,  as  there  were  several  hundreds.  Such  an  Act  is  a 
‘Destruction  of  the  Realm  Act.  The  war  after  the  war  must  not  be  a war 
against  German  trade  but  a war  to  win  back  England  from  our  home- 
born  Huns.  (Cheers.)  Even  Russia,  whose  “agents  provocateurs”  we 


have  now  imitated,  never  refused  to  produce  them  in  Court.  That 
refusal  was  worse  even  than  murdering  Lloyd  George — it  was  mur- 
dering  the  soul  of  England.  (Loud  applause.)  And  the  sanctity  and 
stability  of  the  State  are  equally  undermined  when  there  is  talk  of 
industrial  conscription,  or  the  importation  of  coloured  labour,  or 
domiciliary  police  inspection,  or  when  taxes  are  collected  with  an 
unscrupulousness  unknown  to  Turkey.  Who  gave  the  Government 
power  to  do  these  things?  Whence  comes  their  mandate — a word 
so  often  in  their  mouths  when  we  stood  on  this  platform  demand- 
ing votes  for  women  and  were  told  they  hadn’t  got  it?  We  say  to- 
night that  this  autocracy  must  end,  as  it  has  ended  in  Russia.  We 
demand  a vote  for  the  people  in  all  future  foreign  policies,  in  all 
treaties,  in  all  alliances,  in  all  peace  settlements,  and,  above  all,  in  all 
wars.  (Cheers.)  As  I look  round  this  colossal  assembly  it  is  borne  in 
on  me  that  precisely  such  a mass  of  living  humanity  - counting  all 
belligerents — has  been  murdered  and  mutilated  this  very  day,  and 
that  the  same  mass  has  been  mutilated  and  murdered  every  day  for 
nigh  a thousand  days.  And  I say,  Never  again ! (Loud  cheers.) 

In  celebrating  this  Revolution  to-night,  our  first  thought  and  our 
last  word  should  be  of  those  brave  soldiers  of  freedom,  those  men, 
women,  and  girls,  lashed  and  tortured,  starved  and  driven  to  suicide 
in  verminous  dungeons,  shot  without  sentence,  hanged  by  bungling 
amateurs,  sent  to  rot  in  exile.  They  seem  to  be  here  with  us  to-night, 
these  racked  spirits,  but  at  peace  and  exultant  at  last,  knowing  that 
the  price  they  paid  was  not  in  vain.  Some  of  these  great  souls  are 
happily  still  in  the  flesh,  witness  the  noble  veteran  who  has  so  long 
honoured  our  country  with  his  presence — Prince  Kropotkin.  And 
still  more  heartening  is  the  triumphal  return  to  Petrograd  after  forty- 
six  years  in  Siberia  of  the  beloved  grandmother  of  the  Revolution, 
Catherine  Breshkovsky.  It  all  serves  to  remind  us  that  the  mills  of 
God  do  grind,  however  slowly.  (Cheers.)  And  among  these  martyrs 
there  sweeps  before  me  the  long  array  of  those  heroic  young  Jews 
whose  Bund  was  the  brains  of  the  movement  for  freedom;  and  who 
died  equally  for  Russia  and  for  the  prisoners  of  the  Pale.  That  Pale 
is  now  to  be  swept  away,  with  every  other  oppressive  discrimina- 
tion of  race  and  sect.  For  the  great  gesture  with  which  the  new 
Russia  has  freed  my  people  at  a stroke  Ido  not  thank  her : I congratu- 
late her.  (Cheers.)  I rejoice  with  her  that  Russia  is  at  last  able  to  look 
civilisation  in  the  face,  for  the  persecution  and  massacre  of  her  Jews 
weighed  upon  all  her  noblest  sons.  Gorki,  Andreiev,  Sologoub, 
Mereshkovsky — all  confessed  that  it  was  staining  their  own  history, 
humiliating  them  before  the  world.  I rejoice  that  this  burden  has 
been  lifted  from  the  Russian  soul  as  from  the  Jewish  body.  Hand- 
in-hand  with  their  Russian  brothers  will  the  Jews,  drawing  over 
their  agonies  and  oppressions  the  veil  of  forgiveness,  go  forward 
with  them  to  build  the  great  Russia  of  the  future,  that  real  Holy 
Russia  which  is  already  to-day  a new  inspiration  to  humanity,  an 
inspiration  already  working  in  Germany,  in  Ireland,  among  our 

15 


women,  among  ourselves,  and  wheresoever  the  great  glad  hope  of 
the  French  Revolution— the  message  of  Liberty,  Equality,  Fraternity 
— still  leaps  unquenched  in  the  human  heart,  an  immortal  aspiration. 
(Loud  cheers.) 

MAUDE  ROYDEN 

I stand  here  to  greet  the  principle  of  universal  suffrage  in  the  great 
Russian  charter  of  freedom,  and  I gather,  from  what  some  of  the 
speakers  have  said,  that  I should  be  the  last  person  in  this  long  row 
of  speakers  to  dare  to  send  a message  to  Russia  because  she  has  set 
her  women  free  ; but  I do  not  feel  like  that.  The  spirits  in  prison 
may  send  a message  to  the  spirits  who  are  free.  Universal  freedom, 
universal  suffrage — that  means  something  much  more  than  just  a 
political  privilege ; it  means  the  recognition  by  Russia  that  every 
human  being  counts  for  one,  and  no  human  being  counts  for  more 
than  one,  and  that  is  the  fundamental  principle  of  their  great  charter 
of  freedom.  Russia  has  made  this  great  step  forward,  and  those  who 
do  not  know  Russia  have  been  surprised  at  the  swiftness  with  which 
she  went  forward.  We  think  of  our  long  slow  advance,  from  one 
class  to  another,  and  from  one  sex  to  another,  and  it  seems  a kind  of 
dream  that  Russia  should  in  one  step  have  passed  from  bondage  into 
freedom.  But  those  who  have  sat  at  the  feet  of  Russia  during  the 
last  few  years,  or  longer,  know  that  if  there  is  one  thing  that  is 
characteristic  of  Russian  prophets  and  of  Russian  people  it  is  a deep 
reverence  for  other  human  beings,  not  only  the  unfortunate  but  even 
the  vile,  not  only  those  who  are  poor  and  suffering,  but  those  who 
are  evil  and  degraded.  The  Russian  never  loses  sight,  as  we  do,  of 
the  fact  that  every  human  being  is  redeemable,  has  somwhere  in 
him  something  that  is  noble,  something  to  which  you  can  appeal. 
We  are  idealists  in  another  way.  We  put  on  one  side  our  dreams 
and  on  the  other  reality,  but  Russia  has  passed  in  one  leap  from  the 
dream  to  the  realisation.  While  we  are  still  consulting  with  one 
another,  at  conferences  and  in  the  House  of  Commons,  whether 
every  man  is  really  one  man  or  whether,  perhaps,  some  of  them  are 
twins,  whether  women  are  really  grown  up  at  thirty  or  thirty 'five, 
while  we  argue  and  haggle  as  to  whether  a female  being  is  quite 
human  unless  she  is  a municipal  voter,  whether  this  or  that  barrier 
should  be  put  up  between  this  or  that  part  of  the  people  and  the 
expression  of  their  will,  while  we  do  this  so  falteringly,  so  fumblingly, 
we  yet  may  send  a message  to  those  brave  and  gallant  spirits  who 
dare  the  great  deeds  of  the  world  in  one  stride;  those  who  have  done 
what  we  have  haggled  over,  those  Russians  with  their  visionary 
prophetic  logic  based  on  the  belief  in  the  great  heritage  of  every 
human  being.  We  shall  follow  in  the  distant  or  the  near  future  that 
heroic  example  which  tomight  we  only  celebrate,  and  I believe  that, 
like  Russia,  we  must  learn  that  people  of  all  classes  and  all  ways  of 
thought  can  help  if  they  care  about  freedom  and  are  willing  to  suffer 

16 


for  it.  I do  not  desire  to  set  one  heroism  against  another.  I will  not 
compare  or  contrast  the  heroism  of  Clifford  Allen— (cheers) — with 
the  heroism  of  those  who  are  here  in  khaki  to-night — (cheers) — and 
with  all  those  who  are  not  with  us  because  they  are  in  Hell  some' 
where  in  France.  I cannot  understand  how  anyone  could  for  a 
moment  forget  that  the  soldier  and  the  conscientious  objector  alike 
are  risking  everything  for  freedom.  (Cheers.) 

Russia’s  Revolution  has  lifted  us  all  into  the  light,  and  those  of  us 
to  whom  the  gradual  loss  of  freedom  in  our  own  country  was  bring- 
ing a sense  of  almost  intolerable  tragedy,  can  now  take  heart  and 
believe  that  where  Russia  has  led  the  way  Germany  is  going  to 
follow — for  I see  stated  in  the  “ Times  ” that  the  vote  of  the  Social 
Democrats  in  the  Reichstag  was  only  a sham  revolt,  and  so  we  know 
it  must  be  a real  one!  (Laughter  and  applause.)  Russia  has  started 
and  Germany  is  following.  Shall  England  be  too  far  behind?  (Cries 
of  “ No!”)  To-night  we  know  that  everything  is  possible.  (Cheers.) 

COMMANDER  WEDGWOOD.  M.P. 

Most  of  us  here  to-night  will  never  benefit  personally  by  the  free- 
dom of  the  Russians,  but  the  gift  that  the  Revolution  has  given  to 
us  all  here  is  the  greatest  of  all  gifts,  the  gift  of  hope.  I know  the 
rebels  of  the  “ Herald  ” — (cheers) — the  little  men,  obscure,  unknown, 
the  men  who  have  broken  their  fists  against  the  bars  and  failed ; men 
who  have  lost  their  families,  their  jobs,  their  friends,  their  homes; 
the  fools  and  dreamers,  the  men  who  have  lost  everything  except 
faith.  (Cheers.)  These  are  the  men  to  whom  this  star  in  the  East  is  as 
a sign  in  the  sky,  a sign  in  which  soon  we  shall  conquer.  The 
Russians  are  free,  but  they  have  given  us  the  hope  of  freedom,  and 
when  we  rejoice  with  them,  as  we  do  to-night  with  the  Russians  of 
to-day  and  the  Russians  of  yesterday,  let  us  remember  also  all  those 
rebels  in  other  countries,  in  England  and  elsewhere,  who  have  gone 
under  in  the  struggle.  (A  voice:  “ Liebknecht,”  and  loud  applause.) 
Russia  is  free.  What  are  we  to  do?  Every  real  freedom  lover  stands 
for  the  equality  and  freedom  of  all  the  races.  If  we  feel.our  responsi- 
bilities for  the  belief  that  the  democracy  is  international  and  irre- 
spective of  race  or  colour,  then  I say  that  it  is  our  duty  everywhere 
to  support  those  democracies  when  they  are  in  trouble  and  to  sup- 
port them  by  every  means  in  our  power. 

The  next  thing  is  this:  it  is  our  duty  to  look  to  our  own  house 
and  to  see  that  that  freedom  which  we  acclaim  in  others  is  extended 
to  the  best  of  our  ability,  not  only  to  our  own  people  here,  but  to 
all  people  in  our  great  democracies.  I pass  over  the  Irish  question, 
because  it  is  an  impertinence  in  an  Englishman  to  deal  with  the  in- 
justices of  Ireland.  (Applause.)  I passover,  too,  the  woman  question. 

I pass  over  these  things  because  the  point  I want  to  make  is,  we 
have  a duty  also  to  India.  I ktiow  well  enough  that  unless  we 
adhere  to  the  old  English  principles  of  freedom  for  all  the  people  in 

17 


the  British  Empire,  unless  you  treat  your  fellow-dtisens  as  though 
they  were  reasonable  individuals,  they  will  not  become  reasonable 
individuals,  and  you  will  not  end  by  glorifying  the  name  of  England 
but  by  degrading  it  in  the  dirt.  I want  to  see  as  a result  of  this  heroic 
struggle,  in  which  the  Indians  have  taken  no  small  part — I wish  to 
see  an  acknowledgment  that  men  who  are  fit  to  stand  side  by  side 
with  us  in  the  trenches  are  also  fit  to  stand  side  by  side  with  us  in 
the  government  of  their  own  country.  (Cheers.) 

A.  BELLAMY 

I hope,  friends,  that  from  to-night  we  shall  send  not  only  a 
message  to  Russia,  but  a message  from  this  meeting  to  the  people  of 
this  country,  telling  them  that  for  the  first  time  since  the  war  started 
we  have  had  a meeting  in  order  to  hail  a revolution,  and  that  that 
meeting,  in  hailing  a revolution,  hails  the  beginning  of  a revolution 
in  this  country.  (Cheers.)  For  years  a large  number  of  men  in  this 
country  have  had  the  franchise.  We  have  had  certain  liberties,  but 
we  have  found,  even  so,  that  warfare  was  constantly  facing  us;  and, 
depend  upon  it,  the  influences  that  bind  the  working  people  of  this 
country  will  yet  have  to  be  broken  in  Russia.  So  we  express  the 
hope  to-night  that,  in  the  drawing  up  of  the  charter  of  freedom,  the 
measure  of  it  will  go  infinitely  further  than  the  measure  we  have 
here.  The  capitalists  in  Russia  I do  not  assume  are  any  more  benevo- 
lent than  they  are  here.  I assume  that  the  Russian  working  people 
will  have  to  work  as  hard  for  increases  as  we  have  to  fight  here.  I 
hope  we  shall  not  forget  the  illustration  we  have  had  since  this  war 
commenced,  of  how  one  by  one  silken  cords  have  been  wound  round 
the  necks  of  the  people  of  this  country,  how  one  by  one  the  liberties 
of  the  people  have  been  taken  away,  how  one  by  one  they  have 
taken  away  the  little  props  we  have  leant  upon,  until  they  have 
made  us  almost  impotent  to  fight  a fight  that  is  a real  fight  and 
affects  the  real  life  of  the  people.  We  want  to  win  our  liberties  back. 
We  want  our  own  people  to  win  them  even  now.  “We  recognise 
that  your  fight,”  we  say  to  the  working  people  of  Russia,  “ is  the 
fight  that  we  have  here.  You  are  going  to  use  weapons  that  we  have 
tried  to  use  for  a very  long  time;  see  that  they  are  stronger  weapons 
than  we  ever  had ! ” And  may  I go  further  than  that,  and  say  not 
only  they  shall  be  stronger,  but  the  ideals  of  the  people  shall  be  higher 
than  we  have  ever  been  able  to  raise  the  ideals  of  the  people?  And 
in  conclusion,  friends,  may  I suggest  that  this  meeting  shall  not  be 
the  end  of  this  note,  but  shall  only  be  the  beginning?  (Cheers.)  That 
from  this  meeting  (and  I am  confident  it  echoes  the  desire  and  the 
will  of  the  large  mass  of  the  provinces)  shall  go  not  only  a note  to 
Russia,  but  a note  to  the  working  classes  of  this  country : “From  now 
we  are  going  to  unbind  the  chains  that  have  bound  us — (cheers) — 
from  now  we  are  going  to  cut  loose  some  of  the  silken  cords,  from  now 
we  are  going  to  try  to  do  some  of  the  controlling  ourselves — (cheers) 

18 


— -instead  of  allowing  everything  to  be  done  for  us.”  As  a people  we 
will  rise  up  and  say — and  I am  sure  our  comrades  in  the  trenches  will 
help  us  when  they  come  back — “ We  have  fought  for  long,  and  now 
shall  be  the  beginning  of  a revolution  in  this  country  ” — a revolution 
that  has  a higher  aim  than  merely  moving  kings,  a revolution  that 
has  for  its  aim  what  Kropotkin  sets  out  as  the  aim  and  object  of  the 
Russian  people— namely,  to  work,  night  and  day,  week  in  and  week 
out,  until  we  secure  for  the  people  that  which  is  their  right.  (Loud 
Cheers.) 


ARTHUR  LYNCH,  M.R 

I rise  to  sound  two  notes:  one,  amnesty  for  political  prisoners;  and 
the  other,  the  establishment  of  the  republic.  And,  in  using  the  word 
republic,  I noticed  that  at  times  speakers  were  inclined  to  shy  at  the 
name  for  this  country.  But  there  is  no  good  thing  of  which  I would 
like  to  deprive  the  people  of  this  country  also:  and  already  you  have 
named  it  in  the  magnificent  charter  I have  the  pleasure  to  uphold — 
for  how  is  “ political  freedom  ” possible  if  a republic  be  not  the 
regime?  For  myself,  long  ago  I divided  all  human  beings  into  two 
classes,  republicans  and  lackies.  (Applause.)  I wish  for  the  moment 
to  make  a plea  on  behalf  of  political  prisoners  in  this  country  and  in 
all  the  countries  of  the  world,  because  I know  from  experience  of 
State  trials  that  a State  trial  is  never  fair;  the  die  is  loaded  against 
the  prisoner,  and  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  his  one  effective  defence 
would  be  to  put  the  Government  in  the  dock  in  his  place.  (Applause.) 
The  Russian  Revolutionists  put  their  Government  in  the  dock  and 
found  it  guilty.  I hope  this  meeting  will  not  dissolve  away  before 
we  see  a concrete  result  in  the  establishment  of  a great  Republican 
Party.  (Applause.)  I would  like  to  see  not  Imperial  Federation,  that 
Pecksniffian  imitation  of  the  great  German  model,  but  in  the  Do- 
minions  a ring  of  real  Republics  united  together  only  by  the  interests 
of  mutual  defence,  and  I believe  that  programme  is  to  be  the  solu^ 
tion  even  of  the  Irish  question  itself.  Now  I have  come  here  not  so 
much  to  argue  as  to  enjoy  myself,  to  feel  my  spirits  revived  by  that 
infectious  enthusiasm  of  men  who  look  forward  to  great  ideals.  The 
famous  French  thinker,  Pascal,  said  “ The  heart  has  reasons  which 
reason  cannot  understand,”  and  to-night  I experience  that.  My  feeP 
ings,  my  hopes,  outrun  my  arguments  and  reason,  and,  looking  at 
this  horrible  war  which  is  now  convulsing  and  shaming  humanity, 
amongst  all  the  lurid  glare  of  the  war  itself  I seem  to  distinguish  also 
another  scene,  the  rosy  fingers  of  the  dawn  of  a new  era;  and  I be- 
lieve that  the  things  that  are  now  transpiring  will  echo  on  through 
history  for  a thousand  years,  and  generations  yet  unborn  will  look 
back  to  the  things  before  our  eyes  and  to  meetings  such  as  this,  and 
in  history  it  will  be  recorded  that  a new  date  took  place  when  the 
Russian  Revolutionaries  overthrew  their  secular  tyranny,  and  this 
date  marked  a new  era  for  all  the  generations  of  men. 

19 


W.  C.  ANDERSON,  M.P. 

We  have  been  witnessing  the  dawn  of  political  freedom  in  Russia; 
and  a meeting,  nay,  a great  demonstration  like  this  proves  clearly 
enough  that  the  love  of  freedom,  the  faith  in  liberty,  is  not  dead  in 
England.  Russia,  dark  Russia,  not  the  Russia  of  the  people,  but  the 
Russia  of  Tsars  and  Governments,  has  been  a hindrance  and  a handi- 
cap to  freedom  throughout  Europe.  Do  you  think  that  the  conse- 
quence of  what  has  now  happened  in  Russia  is  going  to  be  confined 
to  Russia?  The  effect  is  going  to  be  felt  in  every  country.  The 
Russian  people  have  struck  a blow  not  for  themselves  alone,  but  for 
free  humanity  throughout  the  earth.  Aye,  and  they  knew  well  what 
they  were  fighting  against;  they  have  long  memories  in  Russia. 
They  know  what  has  been  in  the  past,  what  political  persecution 
has  meant.  The  long  road  to  Siberia,  the  snow  sometimes  marked 
with  the  blood  of  the  bravest  men  and  the  bravest  women  inside  the 
Russian  Empire,  the  knout,  the  prison,  the  dungeon,  freedom  marked 
in  its  own  blood,  have  been  the  story  of  dark  Russia  in  the  past. 
Now  comes  a great  gleam  of  hope,  and  that  sunshine  is  going  to 
spread  not  only  throughout  Russia  but  throughout  Europe,  through- 
out the  world.  We  ask  our  Socialist  comrades  in  Germany  to  re- 
spond to  the  lead.  (Loud  and  prolonged  applause.)  Freedom  will 
never  be  won  by  shrapnel  from  without.  Every  people  must  work 
out  their  own  destiny,  their  own  emancipation,  and  that  must  happen 
in  Russia,  in  Germany,  and  in  this  country  also.  Now,  my  friends, 
this  is  the  strange  irony,  that  whilst  the  cause  of  freedom  is  forging 
ahead  in  Russia  it  is  going  back  in  England.  It  has  been  going  back 
in  England  during  the  last  two  and  a half  years,  and  there  have-not 
been  over  many  champions  of  defence  of  economic  and  industrial 
freedom  and  the  rights  of  the  people  during  that  time.  A few  brave 
journals  we  have  had,  journals  like  the  “ Herald  11— (applause)— the 
Independent  Labour  Party  and  the  “Labour  Leader  11 — (applause) — 
the  British  Socialist  Party  and  their  journal — (applause) — and  time  and 
again  the  cause  of  industrial  freedom  has  been  bravely  championed 
by  men  like  Mr.  Massingham  in  his  paper  the  “ Nation.11  (Applause.) 
I protest  against  the  growth  of  autocracy  and  of  compulsion  in  our 
own  country.  We  have  to-day  an  increasingly  servile  House  of 
Commons.  You  have  people  being  appointed  in  every  direction, 
Whitehall  prohibitionsts,  Whitehall  controllers  to  control  this,  that, 
and  the  other  thing — as  if  they  know  anything  about  the  needs  of 
the  working  class!  People  sometimes  talk  as  if  that  meant  Socialism. 
Heaven  help  us,  there  is  no  Socialism  in  that!  There  is  no  Socialism 
that  / want  that  is  not  controlled  by  the  people,  that  does  not  spring 
from  the  people.  We  have  been  having  the  opposite;  all  freedom  of 
the  subject,  freedom  of  conscience,  freedom  of  thought,  has  been  re- 
stricted more  and  more.  We  have  on  this  pFatform  a man  like  Mr. 
Bertrand  Russell.  (Cheers.)  Mr.  Russell  is  a wicked  and  a seditious 
person,  but  his  sedition  is  of  such  a character  that  it  can  be  delivered 

20 


in  Manchester  but  must  not  be  let  loose  in  Glasgow.  Yet  that  policy 
is  not  only  a wicked  policy,  it  is  absolutely  a futile  and  foolish  policy. 
They  would  not  let  Mr.  Russell  go  to  Glasgow  to  deliver  a lecture 
on  “Political  Ideals.”  The  result  was  they  held  in  Glasgow  a much 
bigger  meeting  than  if  Mr.  Russell  had  gone  there  personally,  and 
that  splendid  leader  of  the  miners,  Robert  Smillie,  read  from  the  plat' 
form  every  word  which  Mr.  Russell  would  have  said ! The  time  has 
come,  and  urgently  come,  for  rebuilding,  for  reconstruction,  for  the 
winning  back  in  this  country  the  things  that  we  have  lost  during 
the  last  two  and  a half  years.  I venture  to  say  this,  that  in  that  task 
the  men  and  the  women  who  are  here  to-day  and  the  men  who  are 
in  the  trenches  in  France  and  elsewhere  will  join  hands.  The  Russian 
Revolution  was  won  by  an  alliance  between  the  workmen  and  the 
soldiers.  The  conscript  and  Cossack  soldiers  of  1905,  all  well-dis- 
ciplined  soldiers,  responded  to  the  word  of  command,  but  to'day  these 
raw  lads  who  have  just  been  pulled  from  their  homes  and  who  have 
not  had  the  authority  of  militarism  long  upon  them,  were  called  upon 
to  shoot  their  own  fathers  and  mothers,  and  they  refused  to  do  it — 
(loud  and  prolonged  cheers) — and  because  they  refused  to  shoot  the 
red  flag  flies  over  the  palace  of  the  Imperial  Tsar.  And  I tell  you 
this  (I  don’t  say  it  for  the  first  time  to-night;  I have  been  saying  it 
from  hundreds  of  platforms  in  this  country),  that  in  my  opinion  this 
war  is  going  to  develop  among  our  people  a far  more  revolutionary 
spirit  than  we  knew  in  the  days  before  the  war.  We  were  asking 
for  small  things  in  the  days  before  the  war.  The  cry  was,  “Where 
is  the  money  to  come  from?”  What,  in  Heaven’s  name,  will  they 
say  when  the  country  is  burdened  with  five  thousand  million  pounds 
of  debt?  Well,  it  is  no  good  asking  for  little  things  in  face  of  that. 
It  you  ask  for  little  things  you  won’t  get  them,  and  therefore  you 
have  got  to  ask  for  the  big  things ; you  have  got  to  ask  for  the 
government  of  the  nation  for  the  people  by  the  people.  And  the  real 
future  and  the  real  issue,  I believe,  for  Labour  is  this : Is  the  worker 
going  to  be  a mere  helot,  a mere  wage  labourer,  as  he  has  been  ? It 
is  not  a question  of  hours  or  wages ; it  is  a question  of  the  status  of 
the  workman  ; and  I want  to  see  men  and  women  joining  hands  to- 
gether  in  order  to  establish  a real  co-operative  commonwealth,  a 
Socialist  commonwealth.  And  we  are  going  to  have  no  more  war. 
(Cheers.)  So  I ask  you,  friends,  to  be  of  good  heart,  and  feel  that 
this  day  that  has  been  in  Russia  is  going  to  quicken  the  coming  of 
the  people,  and  that  we  will  follow  after  the  Russians  on  their  march. 
In  the  words  of  William  Morris,  our  Socialist  poet: 

“WHAT  IS  THIS,  THE  SOUND  AND  RUMOUR? 
WHAT  IS  THIS  THAT  ALL  MEN  HEAR?  . . . 
THE  PEOPLE  MARCHING  ON!” 


21 


A POSTSCRIPT 
BY  H.  N.  BRAILSFORD 

THE  ALBERT  HALL  MEETING  was  for 
thousands  of  Englishmen  a landmark  in  the  moral 
history  of  the  war.  We  were  thinking  then  only 
of  rejoicing  with  a sister  democracy  that  it  had 
so  greatly  won  its  freedom,  and  of  steeling  our 
own  resolves  to  broaden  our  own  liberties  after 
this  great  example.  Since  March  31  we  have 
realised  that  the  Russian  Revolution  has  an  even 
deeper  significance  for  European  Democracy.  If 
President  Wilson  has  pointed  the  way,  with  the  vision  of  a seer,  to 
an  enduring  and  constructive  peace,  the  Russian  Revolution,  with 
an  unflinching  honesty  and  courage,  has  led  the  way  in  the  internal 
conflicts  to  secure  it.  We  shall  not  win  a great  peace  merely  by 
dreaming  of  the  League  of  Nations : the  way  to  that  goal  lies  over 
the  ambitions  and  the  wills  of  all  the  Imperialists  of  all  the  Powers. 

Early  in  April  the  Russian  Foreign  Minister,  Professor  Miliukoff, 
a Liberal  of  great  ability  and  high  character,  challenged  the  Revolu- 
tion  in  a statement  made  to  the  Press  in  which  he  included,  among 
Russia’s  war  aims,  the  annexation  of  Constantinople  and  the  dis- 
memberment  of  Austria  and  Turkey.  The  Council  of  Workmen’s 
and  Soldiers’  Delegates,  after  hearing  a reassuring  speech  from 
Kerensky,  demanded  from  the  Provisional  Government  a Note  dis- 
claiming  all  aims  of  conquest.  The  Note  was  promptly  issued,  and 
to  plain  men  could  bear  only  one  meaning.  It  was  soon  clear,  how- 
ever, that  M.  Miliukoff  placed  some  private  interpretation  of  his 
own  upon  it.  In  interviews  he  repeated  his  plans  of  conquest,  and 
presently  sent  out  the  Note  itself  to  the  Allied  Governments  with 
a covering  despatch,  which  reduced  it  to  a meaningless  equivocation. 
He  adhered,  out  of  loyalty  to  the  Allies,  to  all  the  secret  treaties 
concluded  by  the  Romanoffs  with  the  Allies,  for  the  partition  of 
Austria  and  Turkey.  These  treaties  he  would  not  disclose  ; with 
all  the  Imperialist  aims  of  the  old  regime,  he  meant  to  continue  also 
its  tradition  of  a secret,  double-dealing  diplomacy. 

A crisis  followed  in  which  Petrograd  and  Moscow  were  stirred 
to  their  depths.  Immense  processions  were  formed,  and  some  regi- 
ments of  soldiers  paraded  with  placards  bearing  the  words  “ No 
Annexations!  ” “Down  with  Miliukoff !”  The  Provisional  Govern- 
ment met  the  Executive  of  the  Workmen’s  Council,  and  a fresh 
Note  was  drafted,  which  reaffirmed  the  original  declaration  and 
explained  away  the  dangerous  phrases  in  M.  Miliukoff’s  despatch. 
Confidence  was  not  yet  restored.  The  future  was  not  safe  while 
M.  Miliukoff  remained  at  the  Ministry  of  Foreign  Affairs,  and  it 
was  only  by  the  bare  majority  of  35  in  a House  of  2,500  delegates 

22 


that  the  Workmen’s  Council  passed  a vote  of  confidence  in  the 
Ministry. 

The  result  was  that  the  Provisional  Government  recognised  that 
its  position  had  become  untenable.  M.  Miliukoff  resigned  his  office, 
and  the  Workmen’s  Council  consented  to  nominate  Socialist 
ministers  who  will  occupy  approximately  half  the  seats  in  the 
Cabinet.  They  are  not  hostages,  who  hold  office,  as  Socialists  do 
elsewhere,  as  a pledge  for  the  good  behaviour  of  Labour.  They  con- 
trol the  Government  and  wield  the  power.  The  Revolution  which 
first  destroyed  Tsardom,  has  won  its  scarcely  less  difficult  battle 
with  Imperialism. 

From  this  victory  Russian  Socialism  rises  to  summon  the  reunited 
Proletariat  of  Europe  to  prepare  an  early  general  peace  by  bringing 
all  its  Governments  to  a like  repudiation  of  their  aims  of  conquest. 
The  Dutch  proposal  for  an  International  Socialist  Conference  has 
broken  down,  mainly  through  the  manoeuvres  of  the  Allied  capital- 
ist Press.  In  its'  place  the  Russian  Workmen’s  Council  has  now 
issued  an  invitation  to  a Socialist  Conference  of  all  belligerents  and 
neutrals,  which  it  will  summon  itself  in  a neutral  city.  The  prestige 
of  the  Revolution  is  too  great  for  a refusal.  The  Conference  will  be 
held,  and  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  civilisation  the  working- 
class  and  the  idealists  of  Socialism  have  the  opportunity  of  imposing 
peace  by  the  compulsion  of  an  appeal  to  reason  and  morals.  What 
is  meant  by  the  formula  “no  conquests?”  It  does  not  mean  a 
simple  return  to  the  frontiers  that  existed  before  the  war,  nor  a 
refusal  to  meet  the  case  of  wronged  nationalities.  It  does  mean,  how- 
ever, that  the  few  changes  of  territory,  which  are  really  necessary, 
must  not  be  dependent  on  force.  The  consent  of  the  people  con- 
cerned must  be  honestly  obtained,  and  the  alteration  must  be  made 
by  mutual  agreement  and  with  mutual  concessions.  On  all  the 
projects  of  colonial,  capitalistic  and  strategical  expansion  in  Africa 
and  Turkey,  it  opposes  an  absolute  veto.  For  such  aims  the  inter- 
national proletariat  must  refuse  to  be  driven  to  slaughter.  Our  part 
is  clear.  It  is  to  meet  and  overcome  our  own  Imperialists  as  boldly 
and  completely  as  the  Russians  have  overcome  theirs. 


23 


THE  SECOND  EDITION 


PRINTED  AT  THE 
PELICAN  PRESS  TWO 
GOUGH  SQUARE  E.C 
BY  FRANCIS  MEYNELL 
IN  THE  III  YEAR  OF 
THE  WAR  BUTTHE 
MCMXVII  OF  OUR 
SALVATION 


